Fourteen Days
by Polly
Summary: Ever wondered what might have happened if Nathan HAD managed to have his little brother declared mentally unwell, all for his own good? Knowing the Petrellis, only a world of new problems and angst… COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Fourteen Days

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Heroes. Tim Kring does.

A/N

I have to be honest, I'm not sure where this story is going (apart from around and around in my head!). I have lots of ideas, but I'm not yet decided which direction I'm going to take it. It's AU from 'Fallout' onwards, so if that isn't your kind of thing, then look away now. I took the idea of Nathan having Peter declared mentally unwell and just ran with it from there. Peter hasn't quite gained his edgier, more self-assured attitude yet. So I'm sorry, but this chapter is a feeler to test the waters. If you feel brave enough to be my guinea-pigs, then that would be lovely 

Two weeks ago.

Two weeks ago they had sat around a table, just like this. Only then, the table had been covered with papers, and glasses of water on disposable paper liners and with desk lamps and black ballpoint pens. Two weeks ago, one of those pens signed a simple dotted line on those same papers and suddenly, just like that, everything had changed.

Now, instead of papers and pens and lawyers, the table was filled with the finest china and chilled wine and with two brothers. It was the same as the night before and the night before that and, the young man knew, it would be the same the next night.

"Eat your soup. It's good." It wasn't a suggestion.

Peter continued to absently push his spoon around the depths of his bowl, seemingly fascinated by the ripples and swirls he could make on the surface. Habitually, he swiped a longer strand of his dark hair behind his ear. It slipped out again moments later but he made no move to readjust it.

"Peter."

The young man glanced up, eyes momentarily skimming over the lean features of his older brother as he sat, leant forwards slightly in his chair, appraising the younger Petrelli. There had been a distant question in Peter's eyes as he had held his older brother's gaze before flicking his eyes back to his untouched meal.

"Your soup," Nathan clarified patiently, obviously willing to, for the time being, play along with his brother's mood. "It's getting cold. It'll be time for the main course before that spoon has made it to your lips."

Peter took a steadying breath, willing his jaw not to set in just that line that told Nathan what he was really thinking: how he was torn between wanting to scream, to break away, to shake his brother out of his self-righteous crusade. Yet at the same time, torn between wanting to run into the safety of those strong arms, so like the father he longed to have had, to soak up all the advice, praise and support the older man could offer him and to relax into the security which came from just blindly following his brother's orders. Two weeks in and he was only just learning to hide it.

In alarming contrast to the permeating silence, Peter scraped his chair back across the cold, marble floor, yet he didn't stand. "I'm going to pass on dinner. I'm going up to my room."

"Peter." That one word, enunciated in just that way, in just that tone of voice but it carried with it the weight of a thousand lectures and the severity of a myriad of reproachful looks. The boy didn't even have to witness the sharp focus shining through in the dark eyes opposite him, to feel his options draining away from him. Just like always.

Without a word, he pulled his chair back into its place but made no move to pick up the spoon. Inaudibly, a sigh of frustration passed his lips, just as it did his brother's.

Throughout their lives, Nathan had been convinced that, contrary to his brother's belief, he knew what was best for Peter. From the moment Nathan had held a wriggling bundle of baby brother in his arms, he had verged ever so close to simply ordering his younger brother into submission, whether it be about bedtimes, suitable female friends or even the cessation of crazy 'flying', save-the-world talk. The age difference between them, coupled with Nathan's bearing beyond his years and Peter's youthful, wide-eyed naivety, apparent in those even younger than he, had secured an easy, natural relationship between the two brothers. One led, the other followed.

When Peter had been a small child, left under his brother's supervision while his parents wiled away the hours with their various occupations and distractions, this has been the natural order of the universe. As Peter had grown however, Nathan's grip had loosened and his sibling drifted further and further from control. Eventually, control had been replaced with an awkward, if affectionate balance, sometimes twinned with a sense of cruelty, unapparent in their earlier years. Now it seemed, finally, Nathan had a new reason, a new natural order to follow.

_Legal Guardian_. It was a title, ominous and odious in many ways but one that opened up a gateway of opportunities. Whoever would have thought that Peter's obsession with saving the world would be a blessing rather than the curse Nathan had assumed it to be?

The temptation to simply lecture the resistance out of him, to restrict and confine the fighting will surging within him, the impulse to deftly and purposefully swat the back-talk away – this Nathan resisted with the years spent practising the mastery of his reactions. He was a politician, schooled and bred from the cradle whether he liked it or not.

Nathan's voice brought the brothers back to the present.

"You can sit there as long as you like, Peter, but we both know you can't take your medication on an empty stomach." Nathan's tone of voice was its usual: calm and unwavering. "So whether or not it gets reheated time and again, you _will_ be eating it." Peter's eyes darkened a little more and the lines creasing his forehead deepened. If there was one thing he knew with certainty though, it was that Nathan, while the master of spin-doctoring and deceit, was seldom one for bluffing or idle threats.

Faced with the prospect of a severely prolonged dinner, the young man reluctantly picked up his spoon again and pooled the smallest volume of soup in before swallowing it. He didn't look up to see Nathan's approving nod.

"There's a man coming by tomorrow," Nathan continued, blissfully brushing over the clogging silence. "He's part of my campaign party. There's just a little work to finish up, but then I'll be done for the weekend, I promise." He leaned over his bowl and smiled at Peter. His brother's eyes flicked up and back to him, once. Nathan could detect the muscles in his little brother's jaw, tighten and his shoulders square.

Peter's voice held a hard, almost painful tinge to it: "I'll stay out of the way." His throat felt as though it was constricting and it was with great effort that he forced the liquid down his gullet.

Nathan leaned back in his chair, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "You don't have to," he remarked, glibly. "You're welcome to stick around if you want to."

The answering smirk had crossed Peter's face before he could reign it in. His brother may think he was crazy but he surely didn't believe he was that stupid, too? "That's okay, Nathan. Your crazy baby brother will stay safely tucked upstairs, never fear."

Nathan put down his spoon and pushed his bowl away from him, fixing Peter with a serious stare. Peter met his gaze head on, this time, the determination to try and spot a sliver of guilt work its way through to the surface of his brother's schooled mask was overriding his desire to maintain a sullen distance between them.

"I never said you were crazy, Peter." Nathan enunciated each word, perfectly.

"No," he shot back. "Thanks to you, that's just what the courts of New York think. Or don't you remember the hearing your people organised? "

For a moment, Nathan did not respond. He merely pressed his lips together in a tight, thin line. Peter gave him a half smile. His brother's hackles were raised, even if just a little.

"I would say, Peter, that your running around the city, raving about flying, saving the world and blowing up New York, went some way to forming that opinion as well."

"I wasn't the one who brought it to a judge's attention!"

"No! You were the one who jumped off the roof of a high-rise building. You were the one who woke up from a near-death coma and just ran away from the hospital. You were the one who got arrested – twice. Need I go on?"

"You had me listed as mentally unstable!"

"An opinion that the state psychiatrist fully adhered to, by the way and you know where you'd be right now if I hadn't intervened."

"Back in my apartment?"

Nathan stood, without warning. Despite himself, Peter couldn't help but flinch, then draw back a little as his older brother strode towards him. However, Nathan stopped before he reached his sibling and knelt on the floor, in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently rubbing his brother's arm. Peter eyed him warily but did not shrug away from his touch.

"I know this is important to you, Pete. I really do. And I want to help you. We'll talk to Suresh, both of us – get some answers; find out what's going on with us. You want that, right?" Nathan's thumb continued to rub light circles on Peter's shoulder and his eyes were searching and insistent. "Right, Pete?" His voice was low and soothing as he leaned in closer to his brother. Despite his need to cling to the angry present, Peter's mind drifted back to happier moments of childhood that Nathan's proximity was currently evoking – waking from nightmares, cold and alone, only to be suddenly held close to his older brother who was murmuring gentle nonsense words to him, rubbing comforting circles on his back. Peter glanced down at his lap. He didn't answer but instead started running the fabric of his hooded shirt between his fingers. Absently, instinctively, he had leaned ever so slightly, into his brother's touch. He shrugged one shoulder – the one Nathan was not, currently holding – in a gesture of indifference.

"Hey," he continued. "You know where those doctors wanted to put you, yes? Now I know this isn't your apartment, but this has _got_ to be better than the alternative? Right?" Again, the one-shouldered shrug, this time accompanied by a reluctant moment of eye contact. For a moment, Nathan's heart lurched. The unhappiness in his brother's eyes was tangible – unmistakable. He briefly wondered how he could continue to keep his brother away from everything he longed to do. However, the image of Peter's death, his impulse to jump off buildings, based on a recurring dream, his uncanny ability to find trouble wherever he went: these things strengthened the elder Petrelli's resolve.

"I'm trying to keep you safe, Peter: from the world and from yourself. I'm your big brother – that's what I do."

"Whether I like it or not?" Peter's voice was hollow, resigned - at least for the time being.

Nathan's small smile was genuine, but determined. "Whether you like it or not." Abruptly, Nathan placed a light kiss on his brother's forehead before giving his shoulder a light squeeze and carefully standing up. Peter understood that the conversation had ended. He turned, wordlessly, back to his bowl as Nathan signalled the waiting staff, hovering at a respectable distance from the table, fearful of interrupting the moment.

The soup was removed, the main course brought in and, as Peter leaned back in his chair and stared out at the rain, pouring in sheets against the glass of the window, he sighed and took another swig of wine.

To be continued… (I hope!) Thanks for reading this far. BTW - There is a back-story to this, but I deliberately haven't gone in to it in this chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

Fourteen Days - Chapter Two

Standard disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

A/N – in this version, Peter did not run in to Claude but given that I have a soft spot for the old guy, he may well make an appearance later in the story! I also have not done copious legal research to write this chapter - I'm sorry. If anyone feels they will be offended by the lack of 'legalise' and the prevailing feel of 'Judge Judy', then please spare yourself the trauma now. If you think you can cope, then please enjoy the chapter!

After a clock-watching hour and a quarter, dinner had finally been laid to rest. Knowing he would have to re-emerge long enough to satisfy his brother's scrutiny of his medication, Peter took refuge in his room for as long as he was able. His recently consumed dinner was not sitting well in his stomach and the young man knew he wouldn't be able to keep it down much longer. Shouldn't have had the wine but, dammit, he'd needed it. He took a deep, slow breath, willing the nausea to abate and, for a moment, his churning insides seemed to steady just a little. Lately, it had been impossible to hold more than one meal down a day. The former nurse desperately wanted to attribute it to his latest round of medication but, reluctantly, he suspected that his emotions, so often the root of his problems, were again to be held accountable.

But since the trial, since Odessa, Peter's emotions had been off the chart. He couldn't even begin to categorise them all, much less pull them together into some semblance of order. For every moment that an emotion could be identified, another one swept in to take its place: anger at his current predicament; frustration at the helplessness; gratefulness at his brother's caring; an overwhelming sense of injustice; fear of the unknown or, more precisely, of what he suspected but still could offer no concrete explanations for.

But above all, the most prevalent emotion that always surfaced unbidden or otherwise was love. It was Peter's one weakness and his one strength just as _he_ was for his brother. However, this particular condition was un-curable: Peter loved, unconditionally – the world, complete strangers, cheerleaders, his destiny but above all, his brother. And that, perhaps, was what was frustrating the boy the most – no matter how angry he became, no matter how incensed at his confinement, Peter just didn't have it in him to be that angry. Not at Nathan. Not at the man who had, consistently, from the cradle to the present day, reached down a hand whenever Peter had been flailing, broken the surface and pulled him out.

Leaning against the doorframe, Peter rested his head against the cool, smooth wood for a moment longer before pushing himself up straight. As he moved into the room, one foot came back to kick the door shut behind him. Unfortunately, Peter's emotions were still fuelling his actions and he misjudged the force behind the kick, slamming the door shut before it rebounded open and slammed, again, into the wall behind it. Instinctively, the boy cringed. Peering out of his room, Peter listened for a moment, waiting to see if the resulting 'bang' echoing across the marble entrance way would bring the attention of his brother. However, after a few moments watching and listening, Peter grew satisfied that he hadn't incurred a visit from the elder Petrelli and turned back into his room, this time shutting his door with more restraint.

The mattress squeaked in protest as he flopped down on his bed, scuttling himself further up against the pillows propped up on the headboard. Staring out intently at his well-maintained room, filled with all the luxuries and gadgets that he remembered from his childhood in this place, Peter allowed a sliver of his anger to seep into his chest like an inky cloud, spreading its tendrils inch by inch into previously clear waters. This wasn't fair; this wasn't right; it wasn't even safe for those around him – if he could only _prove_ that. How _dare _Nathan treat him this way? What had he ever really done, to warrant this? Sure, Nathan would come up with a few suggestions, but that was only because Nathan, being who he was, could take any situation and turn it in to the golden opportunity he needed it to be, Peter's wishes be damned.

And Nathan had moved quickly. _My God_, Peter mused, once he had made a run for it from the hospital, he had never _imagined_ his brother could rally the forces with such rapidity, even _with _his political connections and muster. Peter didn't even want to _think_ about how many airports, taxi-firms, police stations and hospitals and no doubt, countless other institutions, had his picture, name and queried mental health status, pinned up on their relevant bulletin boards within the first thirty minutes of his departure.

He should have suspected though. In hindsight, there had been little other reason for the middle-aged lady behind the check-in desk at United to have stopped, suddenly when he handed her his ID, nor for her to have discreetly, and with a waning smile, picked up her phone and asked him if he would mind waiting, just one moment. What had he been expecting? A one-time offer for a complimentary First Class upgrade? That they were so taken with his 'I'm very obviously just out of hospital and still reeling from the effects of it' look that he had going for him? He chuckled, grimly to himself. Perhaps if he had made a run for it then, before the airport 'muscle' and the supervisor had arrived, he might have made it all the way to the exit before he was hauled into a private questioning room? Highly doubtful. If his luck had continued along its present path, he would more likely have spun, tripped over the nearest baggage cart and gone flying headlong into the bystanders.

Of course, strictly in retrospect, babbling rather frenetically about simply _having _to get on to that flight because otherwise he was going to explode, _wasn't _the wisest course of action. Peter had to admit, his rather volatile emotions, fuelled by his recent nightmare, had dampened his judgement somewhat. Still, as they say: hindsight is 20:20. And boy, did that go down like a lead balloon with the airport officials. At that point, he was _lucky_ that Nathan had had him listed as mentally unwell or he could have been in for some rather…unpleasant treatment. As it was, with Nathan having already been summoned, as per the request on the alert notification, it still took some smooth talking and some throwing of weight around, for Nathan to convince officials that his brother was completely harmless to others.

But not to himself, Peter thought, bitterly. No – that, Nathan no longer accepted. By this point, by the time Peter had caused his airport scare, the police had been involved, and Peter had been transferred. Once again, he found himself in custody but this time, under the supervision of doctors and psychiatrists. Once again he was found not to be a threat to others and yet, frustratingly, still not released. And it had scared him. The more people talked, the clearer Peter saw where it had been heading. Not in time, however and not before he had said some rather questionable things to rather too many people. Not before he realised that the right questions to the wrong people in his life, could further damage his chances of getting out of this thing with his sanity officially in tact. There were so many people, after this little fiasco that the young man was forthwith crossing off his Christmas card list…

Peter paused in his blend of seething and wallowing, long enough to make it to his en-suite bathroom: the battle of retaining his food had finally been lost and after the increasingly frequent uncomfortable bouts of sickness, Peter gulped down some water and crawled back onto his bed, this time lying down flat and staring, blankly at the ivory-toned ceiling. Waves of anger had instantly been drawn from him: by this point in the evening, he was always too exhausted to maintain it.

For Nathan's part, even the cool-headed politician had been mildly alarmed at the direction events were spiralling into, once his brother had been evaluated. It had been an extremely tense conversation with the attorney he had hired to argue his case. Nathan hadn't even noticed the strain he was putting on his muscles until he registered the painful, dull ache throughout his body in the following days. Every fibre in his body had been on alert as he had listened to the State's proposition.

"_An institute?! Are they insane? They can't do this!" His normally placid expression was rippled with concern._

_With a preparatory cough, his attorney straightened his tie before turning over the sheaf of papers before him, on the desk. "With respect, Mr. District Attorney, the investigation into your brother's mental standing and his ability to function in society without supervision was instigated at your insistence. A judge will be free to take whatever action they feel appropriate to the case."_

_The Petrelli patriarch exhaled, sharply, the muscles in his jaw working overtime. For a moment, he said nothing._

_Presently, he spoke. "My brother needs supervision – that, I agree with. But an institute? Pete won't survive in a place like that – he's too damned delicate." Nathan's thoughts drifted momentarily to his mother and her scathing reaction to what her eldest son would have done. My God! He hadn't even considered Heidi – she positively doted on the boy and was already convinced Peter was the misused underdog of the entire Petrelli dynasty. His hand passed over his eyes, fleetingly massaging away the tension building beneath the surface._

"_Mr. Rumpole, I need my brother with me and I'm paying you to fix it. You have been very carefully selected for this job: you were top of your graduating class and your success record is flawless. So work with what we've got and make it happen." The finality in Nathan's voice, coupled with the glint in his eye, caused Rumpole to sit a little taller in his chair and clear his throat once more. _

"_We have a good chance, Mr. Petrelli. With your connections, we can have this hearing bumped up the ladder – leave the State less time to prepare. I believe you know the judge in question – that will help." Nathan nodded, thoughtfully. His silence prompted Rumpole to continue._

"_Peter's been evaluated by their doctors but it would be in our favour to have him examined by our own. There's a psychiatrist I know well – top of his field, highly reputed. He owes me a favour: I can call him in, immediately. I'm sure after speaking to both you and Peter, he can be swayed to the professional opinion that your brother would be better off under your supervision. Hospitals are overflowing and the strain on the medical profession has come under a lot of fire, lately. If there's even a half-way decent alternative to a patient's care, particularly one that focuses on family, then any judge hoping for re-election in the coming months would be a fool not to take it."_

_At that, Nathan had risen to his feet. "Do it," he ordered. "I'm going to make some phone calls." When Nathan left the office, he left with a renewed sense of hope and purpose. Everything would be all right. It would be all right because he needed it to be, because Peter needed it to be and it was the big brother's job to provide what his sibling needed._

Not that Peter seemed to realise this but that was only to be expected.

As he lay on his bed, contemplating the décor and focusing on taking steady breaths, Peter's mind, once more, ran over those fateful events.

Both brothers had been glad that the hearing was kept informal, in Judge Barrel's Chambers. But that was about all Peter was grateful for. It seemed, to the young man, that his presence that day was entirely fruitless. His attempts to speak up on his own behalf, usually at uninvited moments in the proceedings, were commonly met with meaningful stares from his brother and an all-encompassing blanket statement of: _You'll have your turn speak, young man_.

Like his turn to speak had actually made the slightest bit of difference when all was said and done. As Peter had sat, slouched in his chair in between Nathan and his lawyer, he had silently fumed as conversations had passed over him: what was in _his_ best interests; they had to consider what would address _Peter's_ particular needs… The judge and lawyers went on. Peter had been torn between switching off entirely and listening to every development, like a hawk. The incessant gnawing at the pit of his stomach had made Peter's insides feel cavernous and rocky and tumultuous.

He had been immensely relieved when Nathan's lawyer had argued his case so effectively. The thought of being on suicide watch in a state-run hospital was overwhelmingly terrifying, his medical training making the dreading that much worse and that much more real. Thankfully, Peter knew it scared his brother, just as badly. Nathan may not always do what he wanted, but, without fail, he would _always_ protect him from any outside harm. When the judge ruled in Nathan's favour, despite Peter's anger and frustration at the entire charade, he could almost have wept in relief. Judge Barrel's final stipulation then, rang hollow in his ears:

As I said, I have awarded custody to you, Mr. Petrelli but on the express condition that both you and your brother undergo quarterly reviews to assess how well the arrangement is working out. This is a probationary period of one year. If there are any further incidents involving Peter, during this time, then this ruling will immediately be reviewed.

Nathan had nodded his understanding as he thanked the judge and Mr. Rumpole, before leading his little brother out of the Chambers.

And that, Peter mused, was that. Here he was, two weeks on. A light knocking on his door, made him glance in its direction. It didn't really matter if he answered – Nathan would come in anyway. However, for the sake of pleasantries and because years of breeding had conditioned him to it, Peter mumbled a vague invite. Slowly, the door pushed open and his brother poked a somewhat tentative head through the gap. Seeing his sibling contemplating the ceiling, Nathan sighed gently and came in, shutting the door behind him. Peter hadn't acknowledged him and Nathan knew from experience that his younger brother's silent treatments could outlast anyone's. The elder man carefully perched himself on the edge of the bed, by his brother's legs. "Are you not going to talk to me?" The young man's gaze resolutely remained fixed on the ceiling. Undeterred, Nathan tried again. "I take it you're still upset about the conversation at dinner?" Peter raised an incredulous eyebrow but otherwise, said nothing.

Nathan ran a hand across his own face, pinching the bridge of his nose and it was in that moment that Peter noticed, for the first time, just how tired his brother looked. Reluctantly, Peter's gaze left the ceiling for the last time and instead, focused on a spot, somewhere below his brother's right shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Peter," and the weight with which Nathan spoke those words, made Peter wonder if they were still talking about the argument at dinner or about the entire debacle. "I know what you've given up, I know this whole situation is new to you but you know, it's new to me, too. And maybe I screw up sometimes, you know but I'm still figuring parts of this out. Work with me a little, hey?" He ventured a hand onto Peter's knee. When it wasn't shrugged off, he left it there – a warm but weighty presence.

His brother's response was so quiet, Nathan had to lean forwards to hear it. "You just admitted you screwed up." Inwardly, Nathan felt a huge wave of relief wash over him. A grin crept across his face as he did his best to sound affronted.

"What? And that surprises you? I'll have you know, I keep a close category of all my errors." And Peter didn't doubt that he did.

"I'm going to start making a list," Peter continued. "A meticulous one." Nathan didn't lose his award-winning smile. "You do that, Pete. I'll categorically deny it."

Peter offered him a wry smile in return. To Nathan, it was a work of art. Peter pushed himself up until he was sitting next to his brother. Nathan wrapped a casual arm around his brother's shoulders and pulled him close for a moment, planting a kiss on the side of his head. Peter glanced across at him. "You meant what you said?" he questioned. "About Mohinder? You're really going to call him?"

Nathan suppressed his grimace with ease. "Absolutely. First thing in the morning." He smiled at his brother but Peter merely nodded, seemingly lost in thought. For the first time in two, long weeks, his former childhood home no longer seemed as oppressive as it had before and Peter hoped things could only get better as time went on.

Thanks very much for reading and to those lovely people who took the time to review – it always helps to motivate and inspire the next chapter! I'm glad there are people who are enjoying this. I shall set to work on chapter 3 as the ideas come to me! All your reviews and comments are very much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Fourteen Days – Chapter 3

Standard disclaimer applies – I am borrowing them and will return them in more or less the same condition I found them in.

A/N

Thank you so much to those who have been kind enough to take the time to review, especially ZooKitty – your reviews always put a smile on my face :-) And Sarah of Earth – wow! Your review really gave me a buzz in my step, though I'm not sure I deserve it! Still, all your comments are soaked up, churned around my crowded little mind and filed away for various 'feel good' moments (when real life is just too tedious to take any more!) :-)

Please let me know what you think – even if it's just a short note, it really makes my day and propels me forwards towards the next chapter!

Peter was feeling sick. He had lain in bed, valiantly hoping that an extra hour would make all the difference. Well, it hadn't. The young Petrelli had never known that passing minutes could be so excruciating. There wasn't much of last night's dinner left to lose, but his stomach didn't seem to realise and took great delights in churning and swirling round and round, causing the young man to toss and turn with the tides of stomach cramps.

Eventually, and earlier than he would normally have ventured up on a Saturday, Peter rolled out of bed and quickly into the bathroom. By the time he was finished, exhaustion swept over his worn features but crawling back into the comfort of a warm, cosy bed now that he was finally tired enough to sleep, whilst tempting, was the last thing he really wanted to do. This was the day when he finally got to take another step further along the rocky, uncertain path he had chosen to follow – the day he would reunite with the cornerstone of his little eclectic, exclusive gathering. This was the day when Nathan had agreed to contact Mohinder Suresh. And Peter was not going to miss that: not for all the nausea in the world.

Momentarily, as he pulled a plain black round-neck t-shirt over his head, Peter thought about the last time he had seen Dr. Suresh. They had been on a subway train. Mohinder had turned his back on him and walked away, disembarking from the train with distaste at the next stop. After Peter had just received a damned visitor from the future! Of all things! And the guy could just walk away – _mocking_, no less. If it weren't for two, very good reasons, Peter would not have been looking forward to today's meeting as much as he was.

Firstly, his meeting with Hiro had in fact, been quickly followed by a fruitful meeting with Isaac and then an enlightening phone call with the present version of his future benefactor. If all of that didn't prove he wasn't crazy, then what would? Faced with all that bounteous confirmation of his convictions, Mohinder's rejection seemed to fade in comparison.

And secondly and perhaps, most significantly, Mohinder was…_real_. He was connected, intricately and inextricably. If there was a crux, an apex to their beleaguered community of misfits and criminals, then surely, Suresh was it. He held those who had been discovered, together. He linked those who had drifted apart to one central thread and he held within his genetic codes, the promise of future discoveries. Every soul, every lost, misled wanderer somehow belonged to each of them. They were a family and for someone like Peter, whose own family had been so enriching and yet so unsatisfying in many ways, the idea of an extended family, identified and linked through a common freakish abnormality was extremely comforting: absurdly so, in fact. Peter yanked the top drawer of his dresser open, causing the bottles of aftershave and badly painted plaster-of-Paris paperweights that his nephews had made for him, to jump. Out of mixture of underwear and shirts, Peter retrieved a light-coloured thin-knit sweater and pulled it over his shirt. He had taken out a pair of tracksuit sweatpants earlier without really thinking about it: he did that too much lately – not a whole lot of reasons to leave the mansion so lounging in sweatpants had just seemed…appropriate. Not that he was technically 'confined' but his brother had ways of innocently keeping him close at hand.

As Peter ran a hand through his hair, he felt the beginnings of a headache forming across the sides of his head, fanning out along his temples and behind his ears. He closed his eyes against the encroaching pain and swallowed back the bile. This was going to be one hell of a day to force himself through.

At breakfast, head buried alternately in the business section of the Journal and the dossier of papers in his manila file, Nathan commented on Peter's lack of appetite, the appalling bout of autumnal weather they were having and checked his phone for messages (apparently undetectable to the human senses) which may have come through while the brothers were eating. However, not once did he mention calling Mohinder and this was the first thing to set Peter's already frazzled nerves, on edge.

Finally, Peter could stand the silence no longer. "So when are we going to call him?"

"Who?" Nathan didn't glance up from his paper and straight away, the young man's nerves were notched up a step. Peter knew the game well: avoid eye contact; avoid the answer. Nevertheless, he pressed on. "Suresh. You said today."

"Uh huh."

"Well?"

Nathan afforded him a brief smile. "Soon, Pete, soon." The paper was lifted once more in front of his face, shielding his eyes from view. Overwhelming irritation took over. In one fluid motion, Peter leant in and tore the paper out of his brother's hands, flinging it down on the table, just narrowly missing the coffee cups. Nathan's face registering his surprise with widened eyes and a querulous eyebrow.

"Pete?" A little more irritation in Nathan's question, this time. Peter fixed him with a hard glare.

"_When_?"

Nathan sighed, dramatically. God, Peter knew that sigh. It was the one that had, in the past, been followed by:

_Okay, Petey, tell me what song you learnt at school today. _

And:

_All right, Peter, let's go see what's hiding in your closet._

It was hauled out and dusted off whenever Peter was being ridiculous and Nathan was forced into a condescending, long-suffering tolerance. "I can't right now, Peter. Marcus is coming over from the office." Off Peter's furrowing eyebrows, Nathan continued. "I told you about it last night, Peter. Be reasonable."

"Oh, but I'm mentally unstable, Nathan," Peter snapped back. "People like us don't know the meaning of the word!" His chair skidded back a few paces as Peter stood. With one last scowl at his brother, Peter turned on his heel and stalked away, uncertain whether he was currently sulking or seething: it felt like a little of both. He felt both the bubbling anger of one and the niggling guilt of the other. How the young man _wished_ he could just feel one thing at a time!

"Hey!" Nathan's voice was sharp and louder this time. A command. "Hold it." Peter had to press his lips together tightly to avoid any…unwise responses. Reluctantly, he slowed to a stop keeping his back to his brother. Behind him, he heard Nathan rise from his chair and move out around the table before continuing with his speech. Peter's shoulder muscles tensed in concern, ever so slightly under his shirt.

"What's up with you this morning, Peter? It's barely even nine am." Peter remained silent, arms wrapped around his midsection in a gesture halfway between defiance and comfort. "What? Did you expect Mohinder to be here for a morning cup of coffee? We don't even know if the guy can _make it_ today. He may have more important things to do than be at our beck and call." Again, Nathan paused to allow his brother to respond but once more, Peter only stood with his back to him, silence his only answer.

"Would you please turn around and _look at me_, Peter?" Nathan demanded, hands on hips. He was getting annoyed now. He'd rather hoped his younger brother had got this out of his system the night before: the last thing he wanted was a brat on his hands that morning. So, when his brother didn't move, Nathan's next command was sharp and laced with his own frustration. "Peter!" He felt a brief moment of victory as Peter slowly turned his body round to face his brother, his head eventually forced to follow. Not that his expression was any more pleasant to look at than his back had been. He had a face like thunder, his expression as dark as a rain cloud and a scowl etched on his face, causing a knot to appear in the middle of his forehead.

"I have work to do today, Peter. You knew that," he added, as he saw Peter open his mouth to object. Peter closed it again. Of course he knew that but it didn't make hearing it any easier. "When I finish up with Marcus then I will call Suresh and not before. I wouldn't want him here any earlier, anyway. Any conversation that we would be having with Professor Suresh I sure as hell do NOT want happening in front of the people I work with. That means you don't call him, either."

"You don't trust me to have a conversation now?" he questioned, quietly. Nathan glanced down at the floor for flicker of a moment: his tell-sign for getting frustrated to the point of doing something he might regret. Again, Peter tensed just fractionally.

"Don't, Pete. I've got a lot on this morning. Give me a break and just don't try me on this."

Peter turned his head to the side, staring intently at the cracks in the floorboards to avoid his brother's gaze. But they both knew he was listening so Nathan didn't push it.

"Please, try to be patient a little while longer." The sound of the doorbell focused their attention as they turned, as one, to the noise. Peter quickly turned away again, scowl somewhat lessened from before yet still held in place.

A servant entered the dining hall, long enough to inform Nathan that his guest had arrived. Nathan nodded his thanks and retrieved the folder from the table. Turning back round to his brother, he walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, Peter pulled away from him, arms still folded across his chest. He didn't look so much angry any more as…resigned. It still irritated the heck out of Nathan, though whose own temper was becoming frayed at the edges. _Great_, _he's sulking - just what I needed_.

"I gotta go." He inclined his head behind him. "You want me to introduce you guys before we get to work?"

Peter smirked, not entirely pleasantly. "What? You think he's my type?" He felt both satisfied and guilty when he saw the frustration cross his older sibling's face.

"You know what I meant, Peter." Nathan, replied, voice tight.

"Well I'll pass, thanks."

"Suit yourself." Nathan readied himself to leave, suddenly all business-like again. "Where will you be?" he asked, curtly. Peter turned his head away and rolled his eyes, not entirely sure if there wasn't only one acceptable answer he could offer.

"I'll be in my room," he sighed.

Nathan nodded once. "Good," was all he said before leaving the dining room.

Apparently, it was the right answer.

After two hours of planning and strategising, Nathan finally showed Marcus out of his study. "Well that oughta cover it. Thanks for coming over on a Saturday."

"It's no problem. The flyers and pamphlets were almost ready to print. Seemed silly to wait until Monday. And we've got the speech laid down now. That'll put us ahead for the next press conference."

"Well, I appreciate it." Nathan _always_ appreciated a guy with a good work ethic that included weekends. He offered his hand, which Marcus took, shaking it firmly. A shuffling off to the side, drew their gaze. Nathan held in a sigh as he saw who it was. For a while, it had looked like he was going to be able to get Marcus in and out of the mansion without incident. Most people at work were aware of the unfortunate situation involving his brother but thankfully, not many had been witness to its effects.

Of course, his female staff still cooed and swooned over Peter whenever he stopped by for one of his sporadic visits but they paid little attention to what he was actually saying to his brother. Instead, the younger ones usually murmured in hushed tones by the water cooler, snippets of conversation involving '_cute_' and '_available_' drifting Nathan's way: he made a point to ignore it.

The older ones made less attempts to conceal their rather more matronly conversations, their topics usually involving comments such as '_far too thin_' and '_Does he ever get enough sleep_?' On several occasions, Nathan was almost certain they were actually being broadcast in his direction, accompanied by disapproving frowns. He made an even greater attempt to ignore those. Who paid whose pay cheques, after all?

But besides those background mumblings, Peter's presence rarely created a stir at the office, much to the would-be Congressman's relief. So he didn't really feel he could be blamed for offering up a silent prayer when he saw his younger brother make his way down the stairs. Nathan had to admit, he was looking a lot calmer than he had been when they had parted company after breakfast. That was often the way with Peter: given a couple of hours to cool off and he was a different person. Or rather, he was back to the good-natured soul that he usually was. However, Marcus was looking at his brother, obviously expecting an introduction and there was no way Nathan could opt out – not without insulting one or the other of them. Fixing his smile in place, Nathan indicated his sibling with one hand.

"Marcus, this is my younger brother, Peter. Peter, Marcus is one of my right-hand men at the office." Peter froze in his tracks and turned to face them both head-on. Marcus held out his hand, smiling at the young man. Of course he'd heard of Peter Petrelli – seen him at the now infamous party where his brother had told all the world of his unfortunate condition. Every now and then, he'd noticed his appearance in the office and listened, idly to the staff room gossip. Despite his declarations to the contrary, Marcus could tell that Nathan Petrelli preferred to keep his little brother under wraps, away from public scrutiny and, realistically, that made sense.

However, Marcus couldn't help but feel that this troubled young man was the one thing that stood his boss apart from the rest of the electoral candidates. It made him human – connected him to the rest of the world in a way that speeches on ethics and policies on low crime statistics and rising education standards couldn't do.

With a smile that just barely drew his mouth up at one corner, Peter took the proffered hand and shook it once before releasing it and stepping back. "Pleased to meet you," he mumbled – at least, that's what Nathan preferred to think that he had said. Then he turned his attention to his brother, seemingly forgetting they still had company.

"It's been over two hours," he pointed out. Nathan gave him a layered smile.

"I know the time, Pete." The answer was light but the meaning Marcus only suspected underlay it, Peter could read clearly. He nodded once before turning and walking away, towards the family room.

"It was nice meeting you, Peter," Marcus called out after him. Peter didn't respond, just kept walking until he had settled himself down on the couch and flipped on the TV. In the background, Peter kept one ear trained on his brother, listening intently for the 'See you Monday' scene to play out.

"So," Nathan was saying, leading his colleague towards the front door. At that moment, however, Nathan's cell phone rang. As he pulled it out of his pocket, he held up one finger to Marcus in a gesture to wait a moment. Nodding his assent, Marcus moved away to allow privacy for the call. He made his way back towards the living room where he could hear a television show playing. It sounded familiar though he couldn't place it: one of the many crime dramas if he wasn't mistaken.

The back of the couch was facing the entrance to the room and as he rounded the corner, he caught a glimpse of Peter, sprawled across the cushions, head leaning on the armrest and inclined towards the screen. The remote was held loosely in his hand and looked as though it would go clattering to the floor at any moment. Marcus walked a little further into the room, not really wanting to intrude but feeling it would be ruder to hover outside without trying to make polite conversation. From what he could see, the young man's eyes seemed to be intermittently closing then opening as though it was a struggle to stay awake. He hesitated.

From where he lay, Peter was indeed finding it hard to hold on to consciousness though he was desperate to avoid the abyss of sleep. After the restless night that he had endured, Peter had tried to take the opportunity of the last couple of hours to lie down and try to get a few more moments of sleep. Now that he was nausea-free, he had assumed it would be easy. And, for a moment, it was. Sleep had come easily enough, like a thunderstorm after a muggy day, but with it, so had the dreams: strange dreams – images flashing past his eyes too quickly to comprehend. They left him feeling like he had just gone through a cycle on a carousel, moving up and down and round and around. Peter didn't understand them, but he knew how they made him feel – apprehensive, uneasy. He hadn't been able to hold on to breakfast when he had woken and his throat now felt raw and scratchy from two bouts of illness in almost as many hours. Dimly, he realised he was getting badly dehydrated but the effort of moving to find water just seemed too much for him.

However, the most disturbing image Peter had received was not what he _couldn't _decipher but what he _could_. He had seen Mohinder Suresh in a moment of clarity and though he didn't know what it meant, he could tell that the young professor had been leaving. His bag had been packed, he had been walking away and, for all Peter knew, he was headed back to India or who knew where, right this moment. And where was Nathan? Peter strained to listen. He could hear his older brother moving around somewhere in the hallway. From the sound of it, he was on the phone and judging from the tone of voice and the occasional word that drifted his way, he was not speaking to the soon-to-be departing professor.

At that moment, he decided, Peter felt truly horrible. It was as if every will in the world was against him. He knew how petulant that made him sound but frankly he didn't care.

"Hey there, what are you watching?" Apparently, Marcus' hesitation had been but a moment. The older man slid into view, standing just in Peter's horizontal line of sight. Peter afforded him a brief glance through heavily lidded eyes, much the way one regards something unpleasant brought in by an animal. Marcus was smiling pleasantly at him, apparently unaware of his unsavoury mood.

Greeted with a lack of response, Marcus shifted a little uncomfortably before venturing again. "So, you uh, you like CSI, huh? Man, it's a good show." At last, Peter propped himself up further on one elbow, the movement causing his head to swim a little. He turned to face his visitor a little more squarely.

"You're still here," he remarked slowly as if pointing something out to a very dense child that should have been obvious. Marcus' smile faltered a little. Perhaps he had misjudged the situation. He momentarily turned back towards the hallway, wondering whether Nathan had finished his call yet and was waiting for him. He couldn't see any sign of him, however.

Peter followed his blank stare into the hallway and felt the rest of his patience fizzle away like an antacid tablet. "Look, I know this place is big but if you can't find the front door I'd be happy to draw you a map!" he snapped, his voice raised and sharp in a very uncharacteristic manner. Marcus began to hastily back out of the room, stumbling over an apology as he left. However, he had barely taken two steps backwards before a voice broke through his babbling like a clap of thunder:

"Peter!" There, Nathan stood, framed in the doorway his eyes two narrow slits of darkness.

Peter sat up at once. He wasn't done feeling sorry for himself but he knew enough from past experience to be concerned for his immediate well-being. He was vaguely aware of his pulse starting to beat a little faster and his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. Nathan stalked into the room and planted himself directly in front of his brother. Peter said nothing but retreated minutely back into the back cushions of the couch. It was all Nathan could do to stop himself from hauling his little brother up off the couch. If it weren't for their guest he wouldn't have resisted the urge at all.

"Uh, it's all right," Marcus began to placate, obviously uncomfortable about the whole situation and wanting nothing more than to get out of that house. "I intruded on him…"

"No, it's not all right!" Nathan snapped back, eyes still glued on Peter who was starting to flush and keeping his eyes trained on his lap, occasionally glancing up at his brother to gauge his reactions. Nathan continued, letting the words tumble out as he allowed that morning's mounting frustration with his brother to fuel his tirade.

"He has no business speaking to a guest like that." Peter's wave of self-pity suddenly crested again: his brother didn't know how he felt, didn't even care and certainly wasn't going to bother getting his version of the events and how they transpired. What the hell right did he have to berate him for?

"Not _my_ guest," he muttered, eyes fixed on a spot on the corner of the couch.

If it were possible, Marcus now looked positively desperate to flee the building, his expression that of a man who had accidentally walked in to the women's restroom and found it occupied by a convention of nuns. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he obviously toyed with the notion of simply making a run for it or waiting to find an acceptable thing to say so as not to offend his boss when leaving. For his part, Nathan seemed to almost have forgotten his colleague was in the room. He took three meaningful, slow steps towards the couch and leaned in low until he was almost nose to nose with his brother.

Peter could hear him breathing deeply through his nose and tried to look away but Nathan's steely: "Look at me", forced his eyes to meet his brother's. When Nathan was sure of his sibling's attention, he spoke very clearly and slowly.

"Apologise, now." Peter hesitated, gaze darting over to the shuffling figure of Marcus. Though it was only a moment's hesitation, Nathan was taking no prisoners and leaned in closer to his brother's ear as he whispered:

"I swear to God, Peter, I've had enough of your crap. If you want any visitors of your _own_ today or, hell, even this _week_, you'd better apologise this instant." He knew Peter had got his meaning by the widening of his brother's eyes.

Then he leaned back and stood up straight as if the words had never been spoken. Instead, he left his little brother momentarily stunned as he turned back to Marcus. "I'm sorry about this." The unfortunate man nodded, weakly trying to regain his cool composure. Nathan casually glanced back to his brother, still seated on the couch, as if everything was now under control and that little domestic had never happened. "Peter?" he prompted.

Peter looked up to Nathan and then to Marcus. "I'm sorry," he apologised, hastily. Marcus gave a fleeting smile. He never really knew whether he was supposed to be thankful or just accept graciously. For Nathan's part, it wasn't a lengthy apology but it sounded sincere enough and that was sufficient for him.

By the time Nathan had shown a relieved Marcus out of the building and returned to the family room, Peter was no where to be seen. Though he couldn't hear him upstairs, Nathan instinctively knew he hadn't gone far. Sure enough, less than half an hour later, Peter appeared in the doorway, leaning against it as he peered into the room at his brother. He made no move to come in. Nathan looked up from the motoring magazine he had been pretending to read. He fixed his brother with a pointed look.

"Did you want something, Peter?" he asked, as casually as he could. For a moment, he could see the argument pass across his younger sibling's face. Peter's mouth opened to voice what had been on his mind for the better part of an hour but the look on Nathan's face made him think again. He had pissed his older brother off and was just going to have to see how long Nathan wanted to keep this up for. Sighing heavily, he shook his head and walked away.

A sliver of guilt crept into Nathan's consciousness. He was still annoyed at his brother but at the end of the day, there was no real harm done. And besides, it was difficult to break a promise to Peter. Not impossible, mind you, just difficult.

He slipped the cell phone from his pocket and called up his address book. When he had the name highlighted in front of him, Nathan paused for a fraction before pressing the button and waiting as, in a small apartment across New York, the phone began to ring.

That's it for now folks. And yes, Peter is being a brat in this chapter – even I was getting annoyed with him but it's kind of needed for future events. I promise I'll make him more pleasant soon! Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

Fourteen Days – Chapter 4

A/N – Thank-you very much for reviews for the last chapter – they meant a lot and really helped kick start me into writing the next chapter. I'm not overly thrilled with this chapter but it all seemed to just pour from my fingers as I typed so I figured I had better roll with it. Please be warned there isn't a lot of action in this chapter (though that should shift in the following ones) so I'm sorry if this is a bit of a disappointment to some. But please stick with me a little longer : - )

Special thanks to Teoyrn – my muse and medical fountain of tidbits : - )

When Nathan went to find Peter, some twenty minutes later, he wasn't surprised to find him sitting on his bed. The door wasn't closed so Nathan knocked once, entered and sat himself on Peter's desk chair, facing him. There was a book lying beside Peter on the bed, but aside from having been opened, it didn't look as though it had been given any further attention. He'd been waiting and Nathan knew it. Minutes passed without words as Nathan contemplated his brother and Peter continued to wait for the silence to be broken. He didn't look at his brother, just played with the hem of his sweater and picked at a loose thread. He tried very hard not to squirm under the silent regard.

"I know you don't want to be here," Nathan said, at length, "and you may not believe it, but I've been trying to make your time here as pleasant and as easy as possible." He paused a moment. Peter met his eyes with his own, hesitant look. "Do that again, to _anyone_ in this house and I will make your stay here _less_ pleasant." Peter's gaze dropped to his hands again. There were plenty of things he stood to lose and he was keenly aware of them: internet, computer, phone, visitors. He nodded, wordlessly.

"Are we clear?"

The boy nodded once more. Nathan regarded him a second longer and then swivelled sideways on the chair and ran his fingers lightly over the computer's keyboard as if inspecting it for dust. "You know, Pete," Nathan remarked, idly, "you spend so much time up here, I've almost forgotten what you look like." He watched, as Peter's shoulders seemed to lose some of the tension they were holding. The young man knew he had just been forgiven. Standing up, Nathan crossed to his brother and planted a quick, light kiss on his forehead. "I miss you." He was rewarded with a small smile passing over his younger brother's face. Peter looked up at him with honest, soulful eyes.

"I miss you too, Nate."

Nathan sat himself down next to his brother, allowing Peter to lean against his shoulder. It didn't take long before Peter's head had dropped down and was resting against the side of Nathan's neck. He reached up a hand and started running his fingers gently through his younger brother's hair. He still needed a haircut but that was one battle that Nathan had always known not to take on. The soothing motion caused Peter to sigh and close his eyes, unconsciously burrowing a little deeper into his brother's shoulder. The man chuckled, the slight movement causing Peter to shake with him. It had been years since he'd been used as a pillow but it made him feel closer to Peter than he had in months, so he allowed it with a brotherly indulgence.

"You tired, Pete?" he murmured, a smile playing across his lips. Against his neck and shoulder, the young man nodded once. Nathan's brow creased a little in concern. He turned his head to look down on his sibling.

"You're looking kind of washed out," he remarked, lightly brushing the side of his face with his thumb. "Are you sleeping?" Peter shook his head. Nathan sighed. He should have been paying closer attention. Silently, he continued to berate himself, but outwardly he said: "Then why don't you lie down and try again now?"

Again, Peter shook his head, mumbling a tired, 'No', as he did so.

"You need to sleep, Peter," Nathan insisted, firmly. When Peter didn't answer, Nathan almost suspected he had fallen asleep but a deep sigh from his brother indicated otherwise. The elder Petrelli tried a different tact. "So why couldn't you sleep last night? Bad dreams?" Peter shook his head again. He didn't feel up to telling him about the dreams that morning: Nathan tended to get upset when he discussed things like that and Peter was too exhausted to argue. Instead, he went for the second factor.

"Sick," he muttered. Again, Nathan looked at him with concern.

"Ah, Pete. You should have told me," he scolded, gently. "You've hardly eaten anything that could make you ill," Nathan continued, thoughtfully. "Heck, you probably haven't been eating enough." Peter didn't respond. Nathan eased an arm around his brother's shoulders, causing Peter to lean more heavily in to him. "Do you think you've picked something up," he questioned. Once more, Peter remained taciturn. Nathan began to wonder if it wouldn't be more sensible to just lie his brother down. However, absurd as it was, Peter needed him at that moment, even for something as silly as a pillow, and Nathan enjoyed being able to provide it. So, he kept him propped up against him and kept one hand continuously smoothing his brother's hair away from his forehead.

"Do you feel sick now?" he queried. Peter mumbled a no. Nathan smiled warmly down at him. It was easy to smile warmly and sincerely and tenderly when he knew his brother wasn't looking. "Okay, Peter," he began quietly, trying to sound firm yet kind. "I want you to get some sleep." He felt Peter begin to stir from the depths of the slumber that he was falling into and object with a shaking of his head and incoherent mumbling.

"No arguments." As he spoke, he shifted himself away from his brother, keeping him upright with one hand on his arm. Then he gently eased his brother back until he was lying on the bed. Despite himself, Peter instinctively rolled over onto his side as soon as his body hit the mattress.

Carefully, Nathan started pulling off the younger Petrelli's shoes and laying them by the bed. "I'll stick around, Pete, don't worry," he assured him. "But just try and grab an hour. It'll make you feel better, I promise." He gathered the throw off the end of the bed and draped it over the inert figure. Then he knelt down by the head of the bed so that he was looking into Peter's face. His brother had opened his eyes fractionally. They were dark with the weight of sleep and Nathan knew they wouldn't stay open for much longer. He could sense a resistance shining through – an unwillingness to submit to unconsciousness. It made Nathan wonder about his brother's dreams, after all.

"Here's something else that will make you feel better," Nathan whispered, anxious to convey his news before sleep took over. He could see a dim question in Peter's lax expression. "When you wake up, you can tell Mohinder Suresh all about those dreams you don't think I want to hear about." Though his lips didn't move and his eyes only stayed open for a few moments longer, somehow, Nathan heard his brother's 'thank-you' as clear as anything.

"You're welcome, Pete," he answered. He settled himself down in a comfortable chair in the corner of Peter's room and took up the book that had been discarded on his little brother's bed.

For the next sixty minutes, Peter didn't dream once.

Peter's bedroom overlooked the front of the house and so Nathan saw the car pull up outside, even before he heard the doorbell. When Peter didn't stir at the noise, Nathan decided to leave him for a few moments longer. He could do with talking to Suresh alone for the first instance in any case. He quietly made his way around the bed, glad that his brother seemed to have managed an hour of uninterrupted sleep. As he moved through the door and closed it behind him, Nathan motioned to the servant who was making her way up the stairs towards him, to be quiet and to wait where she was.

When he reached the woman, Nathan informed her that he would speak to their guest alone. She was to wake his brother in ten minutes and ask him to join them downstairs. He considered a moment. Peter would probably need some fresh air, particularly if he had been feeling ill. The decision made, Nathan asked for light refreshments to be laid out on the patio and to direct his brother there when he woke. That sorted, the politician descended the stairs to meet the young professor, currently waiting in the entrance lobby.

Mohinder stood, taking in his surroundings appreciatively. He had known Peter was connected to money but had never really envisaged him coming from a place like this. It almost made him feel under-dressed in his jeans, shirt and tan jacket. He carried a leather document folder under his arm, his precious notes and files, contained within. Not having known exactly what the congressional candidate wanted, he had felt it safer to simply bring everything. That, and leaving things of value alone in his apartment no longer seemed a sensible thing to do.

Nathan approached him, thankfully, Mohinder noted, dressed similarly in jeans and a shirt, and with a polite smile. Mohinder gratefully shook the proffered hand. "Mr. Petrelli. It's nice to see you again."

"Professor Suresh," Nathan greeted as he released the man's hand. "It's good of you to come at such short notice. I appreciate it." He began leading him towards the rear of the house, through the living room and past the kitchens. As he walked, he explained. "I've arranged for some refreshments to be laid out on the patio. I hope that's alright."

"Uh, yes, of course – that's very kind." Mohinder followed his host into the garden and took a seat on one of the chairs he was directed to. The garden was larger than he would have expected, given the nature of the built-up area they were currently in. Then again, with a family with 'old money', who's to say their garden wasn't there first? "Thank you," Suresh said quietly to a waiter who had arrived to pour him tea.

As Nathan took his seat opposite, Mohinder cleared his throat.

"So, Mr. Petrelli, you wouldn't explain exactly what the problem was over the phone, just that it was important?"

Nathan nodded. "It's easier to discuss in person and when my brother joins us."

"Peter's here?" Mohinder questioned. Nathan appeared a little uncomfortable at that, but he simply nodded and took a sip of his tea. Mohinder decided to voice what had been on his mind since receiving the call. "I have to admit that I was a little surprised to get your call. Our last meeting was rather…unfortunate." At this, Nathan shifted a little uncomfortably, his expression contrite.

"I'm sorry about that. I'm afraid I came over as somewhat abrupt." Mohinder smiled and waved it off.

"And I, as kind of crazy. Your reaction was totally understandable. Even I was finding some of the things I was hearing about, difficult to believe."

Nathan gave a short, appreciative laugh. "To be honest, I thought Peter had set you up to it. He'd been on at me earlier that day, babbling in front of way too many people about how he thought we were 'special'. He'd mentioned your father's book earlier – I thought you were him." Mohinder gave a small, sad smile, his eyes momentarily dulling with past pain. He was grateful that although Nathan noticed, he brushed smoothly over it. "I chewed his ear off for it at the time," he recalled. Mohinder chuckled.

"Actually, at that moment in time, I hadn't even met Peter. At least, not officially. He came to me, recalling my meeting with _you_ earlier that day." Nathan shot him a surprised look, one eyebrow rising as he said:

"So _I_ actually set that one in motion?" Mohinder nodded. Leaning back in his chair, Nathan exhaled deeply, a wry smile tugging at his lips. Across from him, Mohinder took a sip of his tea as he spoke:

"Irony's a _witch_, isn't it?" At that, Nathan laughed - a genuine laugh, not the politician's one.

"That it is," he agreed.

Mohinder set down his cup. "I must admit, Mr. Petrelli, I wasn't sure if Peter would agree to see me." Nathan gave him a quizzical look and so Mohinder continued, looking slightly abashed. "He and I didn't part company on the best of terms. I'm afraid I was rather rude to him – I walked away when he needed me to help him. I didn't believe him."

"Well you could easily be forgiven for that," Nathan remarked. Mohinder just shook his head.

"This was important to Peter. We were on a subway train, on our way back from seeing the painter, Isaac Mendez – or at least _trying_ to. He wasn't home." He paused but it seemed Nathan was content to allow him to tell his story without interruption.

"Peter had been trying to persuade me to give him another chance to prove that my theories were correct, when all of a sudden, he's halfway down the train carriage and talking about a visitor from the future and having to save a cheerleader."

"And you found that hard to believe?" Nathan questioned, dryly. "I'm shocked." The young man smiled slightly.

"I appreciate your understanding, but I should have been more tolerant. This was my father's life. He would have been quite disappointed with the way I handled the situation."

"Living up to our father's expectations is never an easy thing to do."

"Quite. But we try, nonetheless, even when they're gone. _Especially_ when they're gone." Both men were quiet for a moment. It was long enough to make Nathan feel uncomfortable. Abruptly, he cleared his throat and took another sip of tea.

"Professor Suresh, regardless of what transpired between you and my brother, he's very anxious to speak with you. You'll find out he forgives easily and is easily distracted. But I want to talk with you about him before he comes down to join us." Mohinder sat back and regarded his host, expectantly and with some curiosity.

"Peter's been having some problems, lately. He doesn't see them that way but the rest of us do. Were you aware that he had jumped off a building, two days before coming to see you?" Mohinder's eyes widened slightly in surprise, giving Nathan all the answer he needed.

"He told me he could fly but only when you were near by."

"Yeah, so he didn't mention that the way he figured this out was to let himself fall off a fifteen-story building and wait to see if his dreams panned out?" Mohinder shook his head.

"So, I take it he was lucky you were there?" Nathan waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. They were there to discuss Peter's abilities, not his own. Mohinder recognised the gesture for what it was and decided to let the matter slide.

"Peter has these instincts through his dreams?"

"Seems so," Nathan remarked, shortly. It was obviously a matter of distaste to the man. "But he wasn't to know that. For God's sake – who the hell jumps off a building because they _dream_ about it? If everyone did what their dreams told them to then millions of people would be going to work in their underwear every day!" He threw up a hand in exasperation. Mohinder smothered a chuckle with one hand.

"Quite," he agreed, politely. "Please do continue."

"Well it all seemed to go downhill from there. He went to Texas to save a cheerleader, died, came back then fell into a coma for two weeks." All Mohinder could do was stare at him, slightly open-mouthed. Nathan didn't seem to notice.

"Then when he wakes up, he leaves hospital without a word, despite the fact that doctors diagnosed him with a heart condition, went madly running round New York and tried to flee to Nevada because he's convinced he's going to explode."

At that, Mohinder's brow furrowed in concern.

"Explode?" he echoed. Nathan rubbed at his tired eyes.

"I don't know if he's serious. All I know is that everything he went through caused his body to shut down. We very nearly lost him," he admitted.

"You mentioned a heart condition?"

"When he was younger," Nathan explained, "doctors noticed a slight arrhythmia in his heart. With regular check-ups it wasn't too serious. Since he left home though, it seems my little brother hasn't exactly been paying it much attention. This latest incident caused a few more complications. Doctors have him on Monopril."

Suresh tried to remember his medical training. "That's an ACE, isn't it?"

Nathan nodded. "They say his elevated blood pressure puts him dangerously close to a heart attack. They're taking aggressive measures to make sure that doesn't happen."

Mohinder nodded, thoughtfully.

"That's good." A pause, then: "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" He suspected there was more – something Nathan was holding back from for as long as he could. His suspicions were confirmed when Nathan took another sip of his drink, keeping his eyes fixed on the liquid in the cup.

"Actually, all of that only leads up to what I need you to understand." Mohinder remained silent, allowing Nathan to continue. The elder man turned in his chair and cast a quick glance over his shoulder towards the house, presumably looking to see if the subject of their conversation was anywhere within earshot. Satisfied that he wasn't, Nathan pressed on.

"Peter lives with me now." Mohinder appeared a little surprised.

"He moved back in?" Suresh clarified. "What? Because of his condition?"

"Partly. But mainly because I'm now his legal guardian." He waited to see the look of shock cross over the young professor's face. He had to give the man credit: the shock registered for only a moment before he had it under control.

"I don't profess to know the situation or your brother like you do, Mr. Petrelli, but are you sure that was the only solution?"

Nathan cleared his throat. "It was taken out of my hands for a while: the State got hold of him. I had to step in and take measures or things could have got out of control. Trust me, all things considered this is for the best. I only wanted my brother back home where he'd be safe. Apparently, this was the only way to do it."

"If you say so," Mohinder agreed, quietly. He didn't want to appear rude and this really was none of his business. After all, he had only met the young man for a matter of hours and during that short time, even _he_ had considered him crazy! However, did he need to be committed? To have a legal guardian? Mohinder wouldn't have thought so. He just needed someone to…_restrain_ him, once in a while. Hell – maybe that's what this whole thing was all about?

At that moment, they heard a noise coming from the house. Mohinder glanced over at it as Nathan, his back to the door, turned in his chair. Peter emerged from the house, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from one eye and running a hand through his hair.

"Why didn't you wake me?" he questioned.

"You needed the sleep," Nathan replied, evenly. "Anyway, you're up now. Pull up a chair." Peter did so as his brother signaled the waiting staff to fill his sibling's cup. They followed orders, bringing with them the light spread of sandwiches and pastries that they had prepared. Peter's stomach both growled and somersaulted when he saw them. To appease the pointed look his brother was giving him, he took a sandwich and discreetly began tearing it apart into little bits with his fingers. His attention, however, was focused on Mohinder.

"It's good to see you," he began, smiling a genuine 'Peter Petrelli' lopsided grin. Mohinder was somewhat taken aback at the warm welcome. He shot a quick look to Nathan who simply smirked in that 'I told you so' manner. Turning back to Peter, Mohinder returned his smile and held his hand for the young man to shake. Peter dropped the shredded sandwich on his plate and hastily wiped his hands on his chords before shaking hands with the Indian professor.

"It's good to see you again too, Peter." Mohinder met his eyes as he continued. "I'm sorry about the last time I saw you. I should have believed you and I'm ashamed that I treated you so rudely." Peter shrugged in a gesture of indifference. Truth be told, he had been desperate to have been believed and hurt when he wasn't. But there was no room for grudges now. The past was behind them. "Don't worry about it," he dismissed. "You're here now."

"Yes, I am." Mohinder helped himself to a freshly made scone. "I was curious to get your brother's phone call, but he wouldn't elaborate until you arrived. I think he's leaving that job to you." Peter gave his brother a grateful look. He had to admit, Nathan had surprised him. He'd followed through with his promise and he'd even made sure Peter was the one to lead the discussion. A wave of guilt washed over him for the way he had been treating his brother for the last few days. Perhaps being a little nicer to him, wouldn't hurt?

"So what can I do for you?" Suresh asked.

"Help us," Peter replied, simply yet earnestly. "You said before that you could study this, get some answers as to why this was happening. Nathan and I are ready to help." Mohinder somehow doubted that Nathan included himself in this equation at all. The only reason he was currently still sitting at the table with them was, Suresh suspected, more out of a desire to keep a close eye on his brother than out of any desire to find answers. However, he didn't mention anything. Nathan had made his own feelings on this matter plain earlier and both men knew there was no need to go over old ground again – particularly not in front of the youngest Petrelli.

Mohinder leaned forward in his chair to retrieve the folder lying by his feet. His eyes were shining with the prospect of a willing, bona-fide test subject. "Absolutely," he enthused. "There is so much we have to learn." Out of the case, he pulled a folder and handed it to Peter. Nathan looked at it, almost suspiciously.

"What's this?" Peter enquired, turning over the first page. Nathan leaned forward to get a better look.

"After you left," Mohinder explained, "I ran some tests on the DNA samples you left me." From the corner of his eye, Suresh could see Nathan's left hand begin to toy with the napkin he was holding. He wasn't sure yet, but he suspected that was a sign of concern on the older man's part. If he wasn't careful, Mohinder almost believed that the file in the young man's hands might well go walking before the end of his visit. He made a mental note to retrieve it from Peter as soon as possible and innocently lock it away.

"It seems your DNA is unique. It can soak up the genetic codes of others for a short time. I don't know for how long you can retain a power or how long this change will remain but I would very much like to explore this. If we can understand _how_ and _why_ you absorb the abilities of others, we may be able to help you control them better."

Peter looked positively giddy, his grin that of an over-excited schoolboy. "You hear that, Nathan?" Peter asked, as if his older brother hadn't been sitting a foot away the whole time.

"Yeah. I heard, Pete," Nathan assured him, patiently. When his brother was this excited, the best thing to do was to go along with it. Anything else was akin to walking directly _towards_ a gale-force wind.

"What are you proposing?" Nathan asked. Mohinder turned to face him, leaving Peter to scan the pages of his file.

"To put Peter in close proximity of others like yourselves. There are scans I do, screens I can run to pinpoint, track and analyse the shifts in his genetic make-up and how they correspond to how quickly he picks up the host's power."

Nathan opened his mouth to respond but Peter got there ahead of him.

"OK. Let's try that. Who do you suggest? Isaac?" Mohinder shook his head.

"He seems to have disappeared. Perhaps gone in to rehab. But I have a list, a list of others like you. If we travel to meet these people, not only will it help to convince them of their own potential but it will be a wonderful opportunity for you to really expand your abilities." Even as Peter was nodding his head in agreement, Nathan was shaking his. Steepling his fingers, he leaned back in his chair, regarding Peter carefully. His expression was resolute.

"Not a chance. Find another way."

Peter looked shocked. "What?! Nathan?" Mohinder, however, had been expecting it.

"What is it you object to?" he asked, patiently.

"There's nothing _to_ object to!" Peter insisted firmly, again cutting in before his brother had a chance to speak. Nathan gave him a hard look, which, for the time being silenced him.

"There's plenty to object to, Peter but I'll let you choose one." Peter stared at his brother, the hurt clear in his expression as Nathan began listing off reasons.

"First, if your recent stay in hospital was down to your absorbing too many powers then I'm not risking you having a relapse. The less people 'like us' that you encounter at the moment, the better."

Mohinder considered this, carefully. If Peter's illness was indeed down to an over-exposure of power then perhaps he needed to learn control _without _further exposure first? Perhaps this was linked to Peter's assertion that he would, some day, explode? Like the good scientist he was, the young man's brain quickly started re-evaluating his evidence, formulating new proposals and theories. As he did this, he listened to the rest of Nathan's reasons.

"Secondly, I'm not entirely convinced this Isaac Mendez is even _in_ rehab."

"How could you possibly know that?" Peter demanded.

"Because I've already told you about the men who tried to kidnap me in Vegas," Nathan answered, trying his best to remain reasonable and calm. He had just been through the argument cycle with Peter and, despite what his brother probably believed, was anxious not to go through it again: at least, not so soon.

"You were set upon in Vegas?" Mohinder asked, thoughts forming behind his inquisitive eyes. Nathan nodded, normally unwilling to share such personal information with a near stranger but in this case, if Mohinder was going to help him convince his stubborn little brother…

"Two guys," he confirmed. "Didn't get their names." Mohinder's expression darkened.

"Did one of them have horned-rimmed glasses? Tall, fair hair?" Nathan seemed surprised.

"Yes. Do you know them?" The young man shook his head then turned to Peter, his expression almost contrite as he confirmed:

"I've met them before, though, Peter. Right after you left my cab and before that, in India in my father's apartment. I don't know what they want but they are somehow tied up with all of this. They're dangerous." Peter nodded, slowly. Nathan was glad to see that he seemed to be accepting at least this small development.

"Exactly," he pressed on, seeing his advantage. "I don't want you or either of us exposed to that. The more you go hunting these 'special' individuals out, the more likely you are to run in to them."

"Alright," Mohinder conceded. "You have a fair point. But there are other avenues to explore without exposing Peter to new powers."

"Like what?" Peter asked, trying hard to maintain the enthusiasm in his voice now that their first plan of action had failed before it had even begun.

Mohinder thought for a moment and took another sip of his tea. Nathan took a bite out of a pastry while he gave the young professor time to cement the details of his second option. Peter continued to shred the particles of the sandwich on his plate all the while trying to come up with his _own_ alternative to the plan.

"What about a retreat?" the professor suggested, at length. Off Nathan's quizzical look, he explained.

"Somewhere remote, away from others. We could safely explore the range of Peter's existing powers. There are cabins for rent that I know of in the Rocky Mountain range in Colorado." Peter appeared interested.

"What would we do there?" he wondered. Mohinder became more animated as he spoke, his accent wavering in places between Indian and the more Anglicised dialect he usually used in the States.

"I have been in touch, through the university, with men who live up in the mountains – cut off from the rest of the world. They apparently specialise, unofficially of course, in the more extreme areas of science, much like my father's research. Only, I imagine their approach is a lot more…naturalistic."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, exactly. Let's just say that they are extremely tapped in to their environment and their own senses, almost to the point of being able to manipulate it. They have an inherent understanding of nature and how to affect it." Nathan appeared to be considering this carefully, a slight frown etched on his lean features. He allowed Suresh to continue without interruption.

"If you were looking for an individual to explain about control of your own senses and emotions, they would be the ones to do it. I'm afraid I don't know much about them, but I'm certain their genetic make-up couldn't affect you."

Peter thought for a moment. "Do you think they'd agree to see me?"

"I would think so. They don't appear to be hostile to visitors, just uninterested in making contact with the rest of the world. Even if they _were _unwilling, there are still plenty of tests that we can carry out that the privacy of the mountains would afford us." Peter seemed satisfied with the proposed trip. It was one step closer to some explanations, maybe even a way to take control of his life back. He could feel his excitement beginning to mount. Expectantly, he turned to his brother.

"What do you think?" Nathan didn't respond immediately, weighing his words carefully before he spoke.

"I was kind of anticipating," he began, slowly, "questions and tests that could be answered today, in the here and now." Peter opened his mouth to question him but, for once, it was Nathan who cut in before him.

"I wasn't planning on you taking any road trips, Peter – least of all to a mountain in Colorado. You don't need any unnecessary strain," he said, forcefully. "The Monopril can have side-effects. You know that. You've got an appointment with Dr. Rockwell on Monday afternoon to check your progress."

"Cancel it," Peter cut in, determination clouding his features. Nathan sat up straighter in his chair.

"We are NOT cancelling your medical appointments, Peter. That's non-negotiable."

"Mohinder's a doctor and I'm a nurse," Peter tried to counter. "I only need my potassium levels checked! It's not like I'm going to keel over, or anything."

"It's a little more than that, Peter as you are well aware of. And besides," he announced, holding up one hand to forestall his brother's next argument, "your sessions start Monday morning." That stopped Peter in his tracks. His mouth opened once as he cast his mind back through previous conversations, trying to make sense of what Nathan meant.

"My what?" he questioned. Nathan hesitated. He didn't really want to go in to this in front of Suresh but it may well help if the man was aware of all pertinent details.

"Your court-appointed therapy sessions," Nathan clarified, watching his brother's horrified expression. Peter stood from his chair.

"You can't be serious?" he demanded, incredulously. Nathan's expression didn't falter.

"There's a clinic in town. It's the best in state. You're down on their register, three days a week." Peter's voice was tight and dripping with anger:

"And you didn't think to consult me about any of this beforehand, huh?" Nathan pursed his lips.

"I didn't have to, Peter. This wasn't your decision to make and before you get on your high horse, it wasn't _mine_, either. A large part of what is keeping you out of that delightful state-run institution is mandatory therapy. At least I got to choose the clinic but that's the only say I had in the matter. I didn't agree to send you there and you'd be taken away from here so fast your head would spin."

"And just what am I supposed to tell them?" his younger sibling demanded. Nathan shrugged.

"Take your pick. Tell them the truth – _I can fly off buildings_, or go with the alternative: _I jumped off a building for personal reasons_. Either way, you're going to fit right in, there."

Peter stalked away a few paces, into the garden. Nathan rose and came to the edge of the patio, leaving Mohinder seated at the table, waiting for the scene to reach a conclusion. Suddenly, Peter spun round to face his brother.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he spat. His eyes were brimming with unshed tears of anger and hurt.

"If that's what you want to think," Nathan returned, his own voice starting to rise. "I am doing this to KEEP YOU SAFE. And if that means you have to make up some bullshit in a doctor's office three times a week then _so be it_! There are worse things in this world, Peter!"

Peter dropped his gaze. He knew that tone when he heard it. The argument would escalate. Words would be exchanged. Mohinder would leave, probably never to return. _He_ would be then be confined for the next week. _If_ he was lucky. All things considered, Peter knew, the fight had to end there.

He remained silent. When his brother didn't speak up again, Nathan took the opportunity to fill the gap. He walked over to Suresh. "I'm sorry you've had a wasted journey. But please don't think of this as the end of road. Give me some time and I can arrange some time off – we can plan this whole thing with a little more forewarning. But I can't get him off his first sessions – the courts would never understand." Mohinder nodded his head.

"I understand, Mr. Petrelli. I'll be in touch about another time, then."

"That would be great." Mohinder then exchanged a quiet goodbye with Peter before making his way back to his car. It wasn't over, he decided. He had a good feeling this would come out right in the end.

Hours passed, minutes ticked away. Neither brother quite knew what to do with himself. Their conversation after the professor's departure had unsettled Nathan. It wasn't that his brother had, as he had been predicting, blown up at him, but rather that he hadn't. In all the years that he had know him, Nathan had never known Peter not to call him on something that he categorically believed he was wrong on. It was as if Peter believed that every accusation he hurled at his elder brother was somehow tied in with saving his soul. Sure, Peter had argued his case one last time: this was his decision; he knew his own limitations; Nathan didn't want to accept his destiny: the usual. Then Nathan had countered with, what he hoped, was a balanced and reasonable case – _balanced and reasonable_ meaning he hadn't belted him round the ear, yet.

Either way, Nathan thought, Peter would be accepting it whether he agreed with his guardian or not. He did _not_ go through the palaver of taking custody of his little brother only to allow him to go running off into the wilderness to explore these cursed newfound abilities. In fact, that was _precisely_ what he had sworn to prevent from ever occurring again. Even if he wasn't set upon by some deranged, voodoo practising mountain men he'd probably be savaged by a bear or something.

But aside from a last-minute plea bargain, Peter had backed down and retreated to distant parts of the house, occasionally leaving the building for a walk but returning, amicably when Nathan asked him to. He figured it was down to Heidi being due back the next day from dropping the boys at her mother's. She was always on his side. Nathan knew his brother found it easier sometimes to talk to his wife, to smile when he was with her and he couldn't begrudge either one for it.

What Nathan couldn't have known, of course, was that Peter had been far from backing down. The young man was finally beginning to realise how the game had changed between he and his brother. Dealing with a protective older brother didn't hold a candle to dealing with legally entitled guardian. His 'little walk' ended up passing through downtown outlets that afforded him all the necesseties he would need for a last-minute outdoors expedition. His pottering around distant parts of the mansion revealed the young man's passport, should he so require it. And his innocent enquiries into Heidi's landing times ensured the boy was well aware of his brother's immediate schedule for the following day.

Momentarily, Peter paused as he stuffed another sweater into a carryall. It wasn't that he liked to worry Nathan: he hated it. It wasn't even that he enjoyed defying him – there was a part of Peter that understood, hell, even _appreciated _his brother's reasons for wanting him out of this. Add to that, Peter had a worrying suspicion of just what repercussions his brother would have in store for him on his return.

But none of that, as compelling reasons as they were, could change the fact that this was happening to him, right here, right now and no amount of denial was going to change that. No locked doors or brick walls could keep out evolution. It was screaming, hurtling towards his door and if he didn't open up, the boy knew he'd be bowled over by its velocity.

With that in mind, his phone call to Mohinder had been remarkably easy to pull off. He hadn't believed him, Peter could tell but his instincts about people had, once more, paid off. The professor, as eager as he was to abide by the law, was driven by the overwhelming need for answers – for validation.

It was then, when the moon was high and the whole household was sleeping that Peter slung his bag over his shoulder, shrugged into his jacket in an attempt to counter the effects of the slowly deteriorating weather and cast one last, sinking look towards the corridor which held his brother's room. There was no place for the guilt he felt, only the choking sense of abandonment and futility. He left a note: it would have to suffice.

"Is there a reason I'm parking so far down the street?"

Peter gave him a half smile, dropping his bag into the back seat. "Parking's a nightmare in this neighbourhood," he shrugged. He climbed in to the passenger side as Mohinder started the engine. His foot on the gas pedal, Mohinder paused and turned to face his companion. "You're sure about this?" he questioned, desperately wanting to hear the right answer, not quite sure what he would do if he didn't.

For a moment, the young man's gaze followed the sidewalk down, down to the imposing front door. His breath caught in his throat and behind his eyes, flashed a thousand, infinitesimal reasons to stay. As Mohinder switched on the headlamps, Peter's sight switched to the illuminated path in the darkness, reaching out before him.

"Absolutely," he nodded. Mohinder grinned, unabashedly at him.

"Excellent! Let's go, then." He eased the car away from the kerb, swinging out into the occasional rumbling of pre-dawn traffic. "There's so much that we can learn from this," he enthused. "Your brother will hardly miss you when you've gone and besides, we can be back here before you know it." The former nurse gave his companion what he hoped was a concurring smile.

Peter only hoped there would be something to come back _to_.

A/N – that's it for chapter 4. _Fancyfree_ asked me if Claire was going to make an appearance. I must admit, I don't have any plans for her yet because I feel she tends to naturally shift the focus of any story she's in and I wanted it to remain focused around the two brothers. But, like I said, this story is still developing and I'm really not sure where it's going to go. And Sarah of Earth - thanks again for your lovely review - I hope this chapter lives up to expectations :-)

Any suggestions will be gladly considered : - )


	5. Chapter 5

Fourteen Days – Chapter 5

Standard disclaimer applies.

A/N : I know this doesn't have a lot of Nathan/Peter interaction in this chapter but they are heading off for a grand adventure together next chapter. So please, bear with me and drop me a line to let me know what you think. I would REALLY like to hear what you think!!!! It SO inspires me to type. Thank you!!

The morning sun shone warmly as Nathan cancelled his indicator and merged into the lane of traffic, Heidi sitting alongside him. The warmth was pleasant on his face and Nathan smiled. Heidi's plane had miraculously landed on time and she had cleared the airport quickly. Her husband hated airports so that was something else to make him smile. All together, Sunday wasn't shaping up to be too bad a day.

"What are you smiling about?" came an amused voice from beside him. He glanced over at his wife before halting the car at a red light. Nathan leaned over and stole a quick kiss before turning his attention back to the road, causing Heidi to giggle. "And why do you seem like the cat that got the cream?" she questioned. "You know you make me nervous when you do that."

"What? Can't a man just miss his wife when she's been away for a week?" The traffic started to move again, rumbling slowly but surely along.

"Missing his wife is perfectly acceptable," she remarked, "as long as that there's no ulterior motive." Her smile was infectious, radiant and Nathan soaked it up. He hadn't even realised how much he'd missed it.

"Are the boys settled in okay?" Heidi nodded, rummaging through her purse for her cell phone and turning it on.

"They're fine. Probably already running circles round grandma but she loves it. So how have things been back home? I thought Peter might be with you at the airport." Her question held just a hint of suspicion and a touch of dread. God knows, Nathan loved his baby brother – would do almost anything for him – but their relationship at the moment, given recent events, was fraught to say the least. Things would calm down again, of that she was certain but in the mean time, Heidi was acutely aware of keeping the peace within the Petrelli front lines. Nathan shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed to the road as the car picked up speed, moving out into faster moving traffic.

"I called up the stairs to him when I left this morning but he wasn't up. I'm sure he'll be waiting to greet you when we get home." Heidi scoffed, lightly.

"There's no need to flatter me, Nathan. I can cope with the idea of my brother-in-law not waiting on tender-hooks, like a puppy, for me to walk through the front door." Idly, she began sifting through newly received text messages.

"I'm serious!" Nathan protested. "He's missed you – you take his side and you're nice to him and you can get him to actually _eat_ dinner rather than play with it.

And whenever I lose my temper with him, you're always there for him to _moan_ to afterwards." She glanced over at him, apprehensively.

"How's everything been with you two? You have been trying to get along, haven't you?" Nathan sighed.

"I'm trying, Sweetheart, honestly. But sometimes he can be so…" Nathan thought for a second, "difficult." She rubbed his arm, comfortingly.

"It's a huge adjustment for him, Nathan but he'll come around. Try to be patient. You're so good with him and he adores you, just remember that." Nathan nodded.

"Of course," he agreed. "It's good to have you home."

Finally satisfied that she was up to date on all of her messages, Heidi flipped her phone shut and dropped it back in her purse, shutting the clasp with a snap. "So can I take it from this immense relief that you boys have your mediator back, that you lost your temper with him again this week?" Nathan immediately raised a hand in defence, a gesture that always reminded his wife of a schoolboy explaining his way out of a quarrel.

"Hey, it's not my fault," Nathan protested. "He was being a brat – he had it coming."

"Oh, Nathan!" Heidi groaned, wearily. "You didn't do anything rash did you?" Nathan raised an amused eyebrow.

"You mean is there a impression, roughly the shape and size of my boot on his ass? No, though I was sorely tempted." Off her accusatory look, he continued:

"I promise! You can check him for bruises and scratches – not a mark on him. I was very proud of myself."

"I'm sure you were," she commented, dryly. He gave her a wicked grin. "Sometimes you are as bad as he is," Heidi muttered. Nathan chuckled as the car sped back to the mansion.

* * *

The ice-cubes clinked and snapped as the refreshing water fizzled around them. The young man took a small sip before placing the glass – _real glass_ mind, not plastic -back on the liner. Mohinder leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out as far as the leg-rest in front of him would allow. It wasn't that he felt the need to stretch his legs – they'd only been on board for three hours – but the young professor just couldn't get over the room he had in First Class and he sincerely doubted, without Peter's companionship, that he could afford to do it again.

Despite the young Petrelli's assertion that he had separated himself from his family's money, he was obviously still able to access it when it suited him. Either that, or Nathan was, as yet unaware that he was a credit card down. Mohinder sincerely hoped that wasn't the case. As it was he was pretty certain accompanying Peter out of State without his guardian's consent, was dangerously close to kidnapping. He didn't know the US law system that well, but it was something he intended to look up when the opportunity arose. The last thing he wanted to add to that was using a stolen credit card.

"Watch yourself," Peter remarked from the next seat over. Mohinder turned his head to him.

"What? Why? Ow!" He exclaimed suddenly, rubbing his elbow ferociously as the drinks trolley trundled past, the stewardess apparently oblivious to the road kill in her wake. He scowled heavily at the cart as it went. Apparently First Class wasn't all that it cracked up to be after all. "Remind me again," Mohinder said, still a little irritated from the hit and run, "why we had to travel to the airport at the opposite end of city when there was one practically next door to us? We could have been in the air hours ago if we'd gone there." Peter shrugged, nonchalantly.

"Heidi's plane gets in there this morning. Couldn't run the risk of Nathan turning up at the same time." Again, Mohinder felt a little nervous.

"You're sure he's not going to mind?" he questioned. Peter shot him a disbelieving look.

"Oh he'll mind," he said, shifting in his chair to get more comfortable. "But it's me he'll take it out on, not you." That actually made Mohinder feel a little better, though he immediately felt terribly guilty for it.

"When we land," he continued, "I've arranged to hire a vehicle to get up to the mountains. It'll take about half a day to get there. We'll have to park and hike once we get a certain way up." Peter nodded, staring out of the window at the clouds. He had been doing that the whole journey. Mohinder would almost suspect that he was bored if it weren't for the fact that the young man would suddenly turn and ask a pertinent question, every now and then. It at least proved he was listening and thinking about their proposed itinerary.

"I'm going to try and get a little sleep," Peter announced, abruptly. Mohinder seemed mildly surprised, it seemingly coming out of nowhere.

"Okay. Do you want me to wake you for lunch? I think it's almost time. You didn't have breakfast." Peter grimaced and shook his head, adjusting his pillow against the side of the headrest and tipping the chair back, grateful there was no one for him to feel guilty about behind him. He had already closed his eyes, his dark hair fanning out over his face as he answered:

"Airplane food makes me sick. I'll wait till we land, thanks." Mohinder nodded to himself.

"As you wish."

While Peter slept, Mohinder couldn't help but regard him a little more closely. His skin was pale and seemed a touch clammy. The professor hesitated. It wouldn't do for Peter to be getting sick. Then again, he considered, if the boy was tired and in need of some food, it probably went a way to explaining why he looked so pale now. A good meal, some sleep behind him and a bit of fresh, mountain air in his lungs, and Peter Petrelli would probably feel a whole lot better. Mohinder smiled to himself and leant back in his chair, slipping on his headphones and tuning in to the in-flight movie on the small screen in front of him.

* * *

As it turned out, Peter hadn't been waiting for the party of two as they opened the front doors. They were dutifully met by the maid who took Heidi's bag up to her room while Nathan wheeled her inside. Heidi wasn't at all surprised - she was keen to see him though and made a mental note to seek him out if he hadn't shown his face before too long. It was Sunday after all and everyone was entitled to a lazy day on Sunday. She busied herself with sorting through the foods stocked in the fridge and working out a plan for dinner. Nathan had assured her that chef had already prepared a late lunch for them.

Nathan, however, was a little concerned. He had honestly expected to see Peter up and about by now. He would usually stick his head round the door at least, to say hello before disappearing back to whatever he happened to be doing. He hung his keys on the rack and wandered past Heidi and into the back of the kitchen where their chef was currently sorting through utensils. He idly thought he recognised a garlic press but some of them, Nathan couldn't even have said what they were _used_ for, not being the most culinary of men. The man paused in his inventory when he saw Nathan approach.

"Has my brother already eaten or will he be joining my wife and I for a late lunch?" The chef spread his hands in a gesture of ignorance.

"I don't know, Mr. Petrelli. I've not seen him today." Nathan had started to nod his thanks and move away when he stopped, mid-turn, a quizzical expression on his face. "Not at all?" Nathan questioned. His employee shook his head. Nathan tried to shrug off the nagging feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. "Thank-you." Then he left and made his way to the staircase.

Heidi, who had heard part of the conversation, called out to Nathan as he headed up the stairs: "Is Peter joining us to eat?" Nathan smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"I don't know. I'm going up to ask him now."

"Well tell him to get his behind down here! He owes me a hug," she called, jokingly. "And I want to make sure he's still in one piece." She was only half-kidding about that one. Nathan nodded, distractedly as he headed upstairs.

The first place he tried was Peter's room. He knocked once, then twice. After waiting a moment longer, Nathan opened the door and peered inside. The bed was made – not exactly neatly but that wasn't exactly Peter's style and he wouldn't allow housekeeping in to his room. Realistically, there could be a dozen other places the young man was – he could even have gone out – but Nathan didn't like it. When he'd woken up that morning, there had been a tiny sliver of anxiety that he had pushed down before he'd swung his legs out of bed.

The politician had done his best to ignore it: after all, there were plenty of things about that morning that could give him cause to be anxious – what if the plane was delayed? Did he have the right flight details? How long would he be stuck in that wretched airport, waiting for Heidi to get through baggage reclaim? But still, Nathan couldn't help but notice that this tiny, insignificant sliver of anxiety _felt_ like Peter. He couldn't explain it and frankly, he hadn't wanted to: it wasn't the sort of thing that Nathan Petrelli liked to admit to.

However, upon seeing his brother's empty room, that sliver of anxiety resurfaced, fuelling his hasty exit and propelling him along the corridor, into the games room, into the gym, out into the gardens and back into the family room. By the time he had swept the entire house and come up empty, Nathan's heart was beating a steady staccato rhythm in his chest. Finding his wife seated at the kitchen table, drawing up a list on a notepad, she could immediately tell something was wrong.

"What is it?" she questioned, trying hard not to appear anxious. It was a rare occasion when Nathan allowed others, even her, to see that he was troubled and inwardly, she almost didn't want to hear the answer.

"I can't find him." Something about the desperate way he spoke those simple words, made her own response stick in her throat for a moment. She placed a calming hand on his own. When she spoke, she made an effort to make her voice as soothing as possible.

"That's not necessarily something to worry about," she reasoned, gently. "He could just have easily have gone out for a walk."

"I know," he admitted, "I know. But I honestly don't believe that he has." Nathan's fingers were drumming on the table. He glanced to the side as one of the maids walked past. "Ruby!" he called out. The young woman stopped and turned, expectantly to him. "Have you seen my brother today? At all?" She thought for a moment.

"No, sir. Not today. I don't think he's about the house. I've just been cleaning the rooms with Mrs. Pritchard and we've not come across him so far."

"Ruby, I know you've just finished your rounds," Heidi said, "but as Peter's not in, would you take the opportunity to give his room a quick clean? I imagine it could use it."

She nodded, politely. "Of course, ma'am. Will there be anything else, Mr. Petrelli?"

Nathan seemed to have drifted into his own thoughts and so Heidi smiled her thanks at the woman and sent her on her way.

When Nathan glanced back at his wife, she was leaning back in her chair with her arms folded across her chest, regarding him oddly. "Tell me what happened, Nathan," she insisted. The guilt was apparent in his eyes as he looked at her. "There's more to this than you're saying. What happened between the two of you while I was away? You have to be honest with me before I can be any help to you!" Nathan took a deep breath and glanced down. He would love to have a second opinion – but tell her the truth? Tell her about Mohinder? That just wasn't possible.

Finally, he said: "I told him about his therapy sessions starting tomorrow." Heidi let out a small sigh. "He wasn't happy about it to say the least," Nathan admitted. "We argued, pretty intensely. He insisted he wasn't going. I insisted he was. Didn't want to go to his doctor's appointment, either."

"Did you reason with him, Nathan?" his wife queried. "Or just yell at him?" Nathan looked away. Heidi resisted the urge to press further. He was obviously regretting the whole instance and recriminations weren't going to be of any use. At that moment, Ruby returned hovering by Nathan's elbow. Grateful for an excuse to avoid his wife's piercing gaze, Nathan turned his attention to the maid. "Yes, Ruby?" She handed him a folded piece of paper, his name written on the outside.

"On his dresser, Sir," was all she said before nodding her head politely and making herself scarce.

Nathan unfolded the paper, read it silently and then slipped it into his pocket without a word. Heidi looked at it curiously but said nothing for the time being.

"So," she began, thoughtfully, "he was angry about tomorrow. That's not too bad. He probably just needs some time to cool off." She smiled, hopefully at her husband who returned it, weakly. "I mean," she continued, brightly, "how far is he likely to go?"

"Colorado."

"What?" she snapped, eyes widening. Nathan merely let out a weary sigh and nodded. He should have seen it coming. God damn it! Why hadn't he seen it coming? For a moment, his wife was dumbstruck.

"What the hell is there in Colorado that he needs?"

"The Rocky Mountain range," her husband answered, moving from the kitchen into the family room to retrieve the phone book.

"I don't understand, Nathan." She wheeled herself around the table and moved in to follow him.

"It's complicated," he was saying as he flipped the pages of the book. "But he's with a friend – a friend who's persuaded him to go on a trip with him. Somewhere I told him he couldn't go, yesterday." Finding the number he needed, Nathan quickly scribbled it down on a notepad and tore off the page. He moved past his wife and started jogging up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"Nathan!" Heidi called out after him. He paused and turned to face her.

"I'll promise I'll explain everything later, but right now I have to go to him."

"Nathan…" she began but he cut her off, gently.

"I did this, Heidi. It's my fault – I pushed him away. You were right. Peter can't even stand to stay in the same house as me any more."

She looked down, suddenly ashamed of her accusatory tone. "That's not what I meant…" she began, softly. He held up a stalling hand and smiled benignly at her.

"I know," he assured her. "But it doesn't change anything. I didn't listen to him and I pushed him away. So now I have to drag him back." At that, Heidi looked at him in surprise.

"I thought it was remorse you were feeling?" she questioned, sharply. "He's not an animal or a piece of property, you know."

"I know," Nathan agreed. "He's my little brother and he's in so much strife he's not going to know what hit him when I get my hands on him. Trust me: I can feel guilty and tan his hide at the same time, you know." With that final proclamation, Nathan resumed his journey upstairs and into his room to pack.

Twenty minutes later, Nathan's car was waiting for him outside, waiting to take him to the airport. A few items of clothes had been hastily packed and Nathan hurried in to the bathroom to take one last sweep of things he might need.

That was when he had seen it, sitting in the cabinet between the aspirin and the antiseptic cream. Nathan's mouth went suddenly dry. Both bottles were there: Peter's daily Monopril and the nitroglyceride pills for use in an emergency. Forgotten and utterly useless to the young man who would be in dire need of them if anything went wrong. Nathan's hand closed around them as he drew them slowly out of the cabinet and held them in the palm of his hand willing them to their rightful owner, as useless as that might be.

Nathan's expression was stony and resolute as he pocketed the bottles. Nothing could go wrong with his brother – nothing. Because out there, on the mountains and without his meds, if anything did happen, not even the voodoo practising mountain gurus were going to be able to save him.

* * *

Mohinder wrapped his coat tightly around him as they made their way to the truck. If the temperature was this cold on ground level, he didn't want to think what it would be like at a higher altitude. Behind him, Peter wasn't speaking. He had woken groggy from the flight, refusing lunch at the airport cafes. The occasional hacking cough from him was the only thing that broke the silence between them. Peter threw their bags in to the back of the cab section and climbed up and in to the passenger seat. The professor climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the heavy door shut. Glancing over at his companion, he smiled, excitedly. "Ready to go?"

Peter gave him a slightly weaker smile in return. "Fire her up," he grinned. For a moment, Mohinder paused. Peter's eyes were looking glassy, his breathing seemed somewhat laboured, as though it were an effort to do it. "Are you feeling all right?" he questioned, hand paused on the transmission. Peter gave him a lopsided grin. "Never better. Now let's go find some mountain men." Suresh chuckled as the truck headed out onto the road, on route for the mountains.

* * *

That's it for now, folks! Please tune in to find out what wonderful fate befalls our lovely Peter! Any suggestions are warmly received. Next chapter – Nathan and Peter hiking in the woods? Yup nothing good can come from this (particularly as a hurt Peter is a sweet Peter evil grin ). 


	6. Chapter 6

Fourteen Days – Chapter 6

Standard disclaimer applies – I'm borrowing them for no other profit than my own amusement.

I've split the next part into two smaller chapters but it still has what I promised in the last chapter (eventually)! Thank you all ever so much for your encouraging reviews! I hope you like the latest offering.

* * *

By the time the truck had left the freeway, the temperature had dropped dramatically. An ominous grey blanket spread across the sky above them and the wind had picked up sharply around them, attempting to buffet the vehicle across the road. Mohinder silently thanked the gods they had chosen as sturdy a vehicle as they had – he didn't want to think about driving in the saloon car they had tried to pass off on him at the rental place.

Beside him, Peter turned the map round for the second time and peered more closely at the mass lines of red, blue, black and green squiggles. He squinted, his brow creasing in concentration. With one finger, he traced along a thin, black line wishing he had had the forethought to bring some gloves. Coming from New York, the young man was fairly confident that he knew what cold weather was like and, despite knowing Colorado was that much more so, he still hadn't anticipated just _how_ cold. Peter looked up from the map and scoured the landscape around them, craning his head back to get a look at the road behind them.

"When is the turn-off coming?" Mohinder asked, noticing his companion's actions.

"Are we still on the mountain pass?"

Mohinder thought for a moment. "We should be. The road wound a lot but I don't think we've turned off it."

"Then it should be coming up in a couple of miles."

Suresh glanced up at the sky apprehensively. "It's getting dark quickly and I think it's likely to snow. We're not going to be able to hike as far as I would have liked today." Peter shifted, trying to get comfortable in the leather seats. They had the heat blasting out of the little grill but it didn't seem to be permeating the frost attacking their skin.

"Is that going to be a big problem?" he asked, hesitantly. The professor shook his head.

"Not really. We'll just have to make camp a little earlier tonight and start early when it gets light." Peter nodded, turning his attention back to the road ahead of them. His thoughts briefly turned back to home and to his brother. In the pocket of his jacket, his fingers played with the cool, smooth metal of his cell phone. It wasn't turned on and Peter had no intention of doing so. The last thing he actually wanted was to hear the repetitive beep alerting him of message after message waiting for him. He had no doubt they would be there when he decided to get back in touch with the rest of the world but for now, he didn't want to hear his brother's voice or read his scathing words, promising dire consequences for him and demanding him home. As far as Peter was concerned, if he hadn't heard the instruction, he felt no compulsion to obey it.

However, Peter was also beginning to realise something else. Driving out into the middle of nowhere with a trusted companion by his side was exciting, it was liberating and, to an extent, was like the adventure he had always craved. Yet, as the sky darkened and the other cars on the road thinned out into only an occasional truck, Peter couldn't help but think about how _much_ he wanted to hear his brother's voice right then. Or just how good his warm bed was looking. The young man was still resolute that he wanted to be on this journey – he _knew_ this was the path he was meant to follow but following it alone, without his brother, he just felt so…lost.

"Thinking about your brother?" The voice startled him.

"Huh?"

"You had that look about you," Mohinder explained, "and you were toying with the cell phone in your pocket." Peter glanced down at the phone in question, guiltily.

"It's nothing," he dismissed, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes as if shutting out the unwelcome images that conversation would evoke. Mohinder ventured tentatively further, reluctant to push the issue but feeling it his duty to put aside his own misgivings.

"If you want to call him, Peter then…"

"I don't," he cut in. Off Suresh's doubtful expression, Peter continued, assuredly. "Really, I don't. I just hope he isn't too worried, that's all."

The young professor drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His expression darkened in consternation. "Well if you want to turn around," he began, reluctantly.

"No!" The force behind his response started another fit of violent coughing, causing the young man to grip a hand tightly over his chest. Mohinder looked at him suspiciously, his features awash with concern. Peter put a hand up to end his question before he'd asked it. Through gasping breaths he managed to say, "I'm fine. Don't worry."

Mohinder wasn't quite so convinced. "You're sure? You've seemed pretty drained and you still haven't eaten." Peter smiled, thinly.

"I'm sure. Just a little tired. Think this cold air is irritating my throat a bit."

The Doctor nodded. "Well, I'm sure you'll adjust to it."

"I think we're almost at the turn-off for Crestone.

Both men turned their attention back to the road as the turning loomed in the distance. Above them, the first feathery flakes of snow began to swirl and tumble down to Earth.

* * *

It hadn't taken Nathan long to figure out which airport his brother was likely to have taken. Turned out he wasn't wrong. Throughout the ride to the airport, Nathan had been on the phone barking orders and throwing his wait around, allowing his anger at his brother to fuel his demands.

His mother had chosen that moment to ring. Nathan sometimes suspected she had a pipeline into his consciousness – that she could tell the precise moment her input would so _not_ be appreciated by her children. She hadn't been too impressed with his leaving town in the middle of an election and even less impressed when she wheedled the reasons why out of him.

Nathan had made short work of the conversation: he had better things to attend to and there was an underlying resentment between the two of them, regarding his younger sibling. It wasn't that his mother had balked at Peter's mental health hearing – it was more the fact that _she_ had wanted to be the one to get him. Not that Angela Petrelli had come out and admitted as much but Nathan could read a lot into her icy tones and condescending queries into how her youngest son was faring and how her elder son was coping. Nathan decided that now was not the time to be getting in to an argument with her. Promising to call her when Peter was home safely, he all but hung up on her and turned his attention back to the airport officials on the other line.

By the time the politician arrived, he was met at the airport entrance by a host of concerned officials, ushering him through the terminal and check-in points, then into a private waiting area. They had relayed to him exactly where his brother had flown to and who he had been with. Nathan had known as much but he felt a little more confident on his journey to have the details confirmed by the cold, hard facts from a machine. As Nathan now waited for his plane he divided his time between cementing the legal details of ensuring Peter could never pull another stunt like this again and contemplating just how he was supposed to find his brother. The rental agency had given him details of Mohinder's request and his intended location. It gave him a better idea of where to start but once he got to the mountain, Nathan wasn't sure exactly how he was going to locate his brother on it.

Of course, he'd been offered the help of the local police and rangers but, so far, Nathan had refused. His brother's medical condition had given his predicament a little more weight and importance in official eyes but Nathan was reluctant to bring them in straight away. God only knew what Peter and Mohinder, not to mention those hippy mountain gurus were up to? The last thing Nathan Petrelli really wanted was for bizarre reports on his little brother's activities to make it onto any official channels. He only hoped that Peter was all right and, God willing, would continue to be so.

* * *

Despite the bitterness of the wind it had ensured that the snow had continued to be whipped about the air in a flurry. As the wind died down, the snow now began to settle onto the ground making the world seem clean and fresh and new. It was as if, just for the time being, the world and all its impurities had been given a clean slate – a second chance at perfection.

They had parked the truck in a parking reserve part way up the winding mountain roads of Crestone Park. They could just make out the snow-capped tops of the towering forms. There wasn't much life around them: a ranger's cabin and a tourist café, closed in the autumn and winter seasons. The ranger had given them a brief outline of the area, speaking mainly to Mohinder, as Peter's attention had seemed to drift in and out of the conversation with alarming frequency. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade the two to postpone their trip until a later time. The season really wasn't suited to camping and the last thing he wanted was to be dragging the two of them back down the mountain when the elements got the better of them. Of course, they could not be dissuaded and so the ranger had turned his attention to ensuring they knew what they would be letting themselves in for. He knew the cabins they were aiming for – a good day's hike northwest but they would have to make their way through the thick spread of conifers and off the main route.

Now, shouldering their packs and camping gear the young men were picking their way carefully along the path. There was a clearing about an hour in. As their surroundings quickly dimmed and faded, the objects around them brushed in blue and grey, they decided the sooner they pitched their tent the better. For Peter, sooner couldn't be soon enough.

His head was starting to swim from, he told himself, the increase in altitude and thinning of air. Lately it seemed as though his brain and limbs were in a permanently sluggish haze. Though he tried to ignore it, the exhaustion was seeping through him causing him to lag behind. They came to a steeped bank through the trees. Mohinder grabbed a hold of a branch to support his weight as he stepped up, pulling himself and his pack with him. Glancing back, he saw Peter coming up behind. His expression was pinched and drawn. Again, the young doctor frowned. They would be able to rest soon – the sleep would do him the world of good.

Peter's mind was a fog of dimly recognisable shapes and sounds – things that he knew he ought to be more aware of but for the nausea and dizziness clouding his judgement. As he reached the embankment, his foot hit the side of it with a jarring thud. The young man took a deep breath and reached out a hand to take hold of the branch. It seemed to him as if his arm were moving of its own volition – unnaturally slowly. Closing his fingers around the branch, he hoisted himself up, only for his arm to suddenly have all the strength sapped out of it. His head spinning, Peter lost his balance and tumbled backwards with a startled yelp hitting the ground with a crash. His pack bore the brunt of the impact but that didn't save the back of his head from connecting sharply with the solid ground. He rolled onto his side and struggled to his feet, clasping one hand against the side of his head as if to steady the swimming motion.

Mohinder spun around at the sound. "Peter?" he called, sharply. "Are you all right?" Already the dwindling light made it difficult to make out much more than the outline of his young companion. He took a few hasty steps back towards him, mindful of the sudden drop should he go too far.

Peter's reply was strained as if the effort to speak was wearing him down further. "Don't worry. I'm fine – I just didn't have a good enough grip on it." Through the encroaching twilight, Peter could picture the doubt crossing his companion's face and cringed at the thought. He forced a little more strength into his voice as he made his way back over to the bank and grasped the branch more firmly.

"Honestly, the pack cushioned my fall. I'm fine." As if to prove his point, Peter hauled himself up the slope moving with confident strides that he did not feel. It seemed to work for Mohinder, though. "That's good. We're almost there." For the rest of their hike, Peter made sure to keep pace with the professor.

By the time they reached the clearing, Peter resisted the urge to collapse onto the welcoming ground with great effort. Instead, he helped to unpack the tent and sleeping bags while Mohinder lit the lanterns and made a fire. In no time at all they had made camp and the heat from the roaring campfire was slowly but surely warming their chilled hands and feet. As he sat round the blaze, Peter began to feel better for the first time that day.

Mohinder noticed the smile playing across his friend's lips as he sipped his coffee. He relaxed a little at the sight. Peter was looking better now, his skin warmed by the fire's glow and his eyes seemed brighter and more alert as they followed the wild dance of the spitting flames and white hot embers. He would occasionally throw another log onto the flames, enjoying the brief surge of fire it would create.

"So are you feeling better? We should be able to make it to the cabins by noon tomorrow. It's not too long a hike from here." From the opposite side of the fire Peter's smile widened into a grin.

"That's great. I can't wait to get started." Mohinder took a sip of his own drink as he turned the meat over on the camping stove. He inhaled the fresh mountain air deeply and stretched one leg out in front of him. It was rare that he got to enjoy moments like this, surrounded by the overwhelming majesty and power of nature. Neither Bombay nor New York had afforded him little more than patches of green within masses of concrete and dust.

"Have you been camping before?" Mohinder asked, shrugging out of his thick outer coat as the heat from the campfire penetrated a little too deeply. Peter nodded.

"A couple of times – once with my family, the other time just with Nathan. I loved it the first time but it turned out that Petrellis weren't actually _meant to camp_." His voice mimicked his father's low, stern baritone at that last phrase and a chuckle escaped his lips. "My parents couldn't wait to get back to the real world, I guess. It kind of surprised me."

"How so?"

"Well, I know my dad was in the army. Thought he'd have been right at home, you know, camping out with the elements. Maybe it was just the family thing he didn't like." For a moment, his expression became strangled with unresolved pain. Though he'd used the word _family_, for all intent and purposes he may as well have substituted _me_ for it. Strangely enough, his father had never seemed to have any problems going on long hikes with his brother, teaching him how to _be a man_. Apparently, by the time Peter was old enough to go on these endurance hikes, his father had decided he wasn't worth teaching. Like so many other things: his report cards that weren't _worth the reading_, his SAT scores _worth the celebrating,_ nor his college campus _worth the visit_. Luckily for Peter, he still had his brother – his brother who never failed to be proud of him whether it was for a goal in soccer, an A at school or the first time he swam a length at the swimming pool.

"You say you went again with Nathan?"

Peter looked up from his bittersweet reminiscing. "Yeah, when I was thirteen. He was twenty-three and back home on leave from serving abroad. He had a month this time – that was practically unheard of. My dad was supposed to take me for the weekend." Mohinder smiled, wistfully.

"Special occasion?"

Peter shrugged. "Kind of an early birthday outing and reward for my first and only straight A report card." He gave a short laugh. "I always thought I was trying my best at school but my teachers never seemed to agree with me."

"So what happened?" Mohinder wondered. A shadow passed across his young companion's face for a moment as the light from the flames danced across his features.

"Nathan came home and my father cancelled the trip. Made arrangements for this huge meet and greet business dinner with all of his lawyer buddies that he wanted Nathan to get friendly with. He let my mother tell me it was off – he was too busy networking on the phone."

Inwardly, Mohinder winced in sympathy. "That must have been hard," he offered. From the tempting aromas and the colour of the meat, the young professor knew that the food was done. Switching off the stove, he busied himself with serving up the meal as they continued to talk above the crackling sound of the fire and the occasional call from the local wildlife.

"Not really," Peter replied, shifting to locate the cutlery. "I'd been babbling to Nathan for days about this stupid trip so when my father told him all about the 'networking' drinks and dinner he'd arranged for him, Nathan point blank refused to go." Peter smiled, fondly at the memory as Mohinder widened his eyes in surprise.

"He did?"

"Yup. He was so pissed at my dad. Not that he really came out and said it – he always idolised the guy too much – but he stuck by his guns. Marched right up to my room and just flung this camping pack on my bed and told me to pack my stuff. I could see he was still mad but I knew it wasn't at me."

"So what did you do?"

"Packed my stuff – what else? A whole weekend with just my brother? That was so much more appealing than a weekend with just my father and the more I thought about going with Nathan, the more I realised how I'd been dreading going with my dad."

"And your parents didn't mind?" Suresh wondered, dividing the food equally amongst the two plates. Peter gave a mirthless laugh.

"Oh, my dad certainly minded but my mother managed to calm him down. You could hear the yelling from every part of the house. After Nate had packed his own gear, he didn't even talk to my dad as we left, he just trundled me out the front door and into his car." Mohinder couldn't help but smile with him.

"By the time we hit the interstate he'd finished calming down and we were joking around, talking about school and the armed forces. It was the one of the best weekends I remember having growing up." He trailed off as he was passed a plate of steaming hot food.

"Please try to eat something," Mohinder pressed gently. "We've got a lot of walking to do tomorrow." His expression was earnest and Peter felt too guilty to ignore it, despite his stomach's protest at the thought of food.

So, in order to appease his friend and quell his worrying nature, Peter did attempt to eat and after a short but filling meal, both men retreated to their tents for some well-deserved slumber.

* * *

Okay – thanks for getting this far! If you'd like to let me know what you think, that would be fantastic. If you think you're up to reading the next chapter, then you know where that button is… 


	7. Chapter 7

Fourteen Days – Chapter 7

Standard Disclaimer applies

A/N – yup – it's time for Nathan and Peter to demonstrate their unique version of brotherly affection!

* * *

After several long hours on a plane, Nathan was more than ready to disembark, stretch his legs properly and work out the knots in his back and shoulders. His brother's plane had landed in Pueblo several hours ago and as he made his way over to the rental lot, he calculated how far they could have gone in that time. The snowfall had only just stopped but it still lay thick across the hard ground, turning into an icy sludge along the more, well-travelled paths where the gritting trucks had managed to make their rounds. Looking up at the sky he could tell there was only an hour or so of proper daylight left, the weather creating the effect of an earlier dusk.

Leaving the town of Pueblo behind him, Nathan headed out on the State Highway 96, a map and the directions from the rental agency as his only guide. _What car didn't have SAT-NAV these days,_ he wondered, irritably as he settled the tar-like Styrofoam cup of coffee into the cup-holder. Yellow post-it notes on the dashboard gave him reminders for his journey to Crestone Park (where he had been assured his quarry had been heading towards): first Wetmore, then Westcliffe then the destinations dried up so he assumed a huge mountain would be the next clue on his journey.

Barely mindful of the treacherous driving conditions, Nathan cranked up the heat, depressed the accelerator and sped on towards his final destination.

Dawn had approached all too quickly for the young men. Peter had awoken with a pounding headache and managed to stumble out of the tent without disturbing his friend, long enough to give way to the familiar nausea. How he was feeling an uncomfortable sensation similar to indigestion, when he clearly hadn't eaten or retained much of anything, was beyond him.

By the time Mohinder had awoken, Peter had already packed up a lot of their gear and covered the evidence of the campfire, returning their site to how it was before, just as Nathan had taught him to all those years ago.

If Mohinder noticed the thin sheen of perspiration covering Peter's pallid skin despite the low temperatures, he didn't say anything. Instead they packed up the tent and once again took up their packs.

As the sun crept over the horizon, Nathan blinked back the urge to close his eyes. Now that he was finally at Crestone, he certainly wasn't giving way to sleep. Nor was he going to let the, frankly bullying tactics of the local ranger dissuade him from the next part of his mission. On hearing confirmation that his brother had indeed made it to the park, Nathan was filled with a mounting sense of excitement. He could almost feel his brother's presence and, without knowing or caring how, he could also feel a sense of urgency and encroaching fear. Peter needed him, whether the young man was aware of it or not. Armed with directions that he barely felt he needed, Nathan zipped his coat up a little tighter, checked his first aid and emergency supplies in his pack and set off at a clipped rate.

* * *

They had barely been walking an hour when they heard it, somewhere off in the near distance. Tearing through the placid tones of babbling brooks and rustling leaves had come an ear-splitting, blood-curdling scream followed by another and then a desperate wailing. It was the kind of scream that tore the very air asunder and made every hair on your body stand on end. Even as Mohinder stopped dead in his tracks, Peter began sprinting off towards its source forcing the young professor to follow.

"Peter, wait!" he called, frantically. Peter slowed and half turned to face him as he continued walking backwards towards the sound.

"Someone needs help, Mohinder!" he called back, beckoning him to hurry as he turned back round and continued his race along the winding path and through the trees, allowing the thick branches to whip past him, tearing and scratching at his face and hands as he did so.

"Yes," Mohinder muttered nevertheless quickening his pace to match that of his companion, "probably _us_ in a matter of moments."

Peter pushed his way through the last set of trees, coming out onto a steep mountain clearing, surrounded by a high wall of conifers. The young man pulled up short at the sight that greeted him, Mohinder arriving seconds behind him and reacting with similar horror. Two forms lay face down, crumpled on the ground – one still in his tent, the other further off from the campsite. Rivulets of bright red blood ran from underneath them, pooling out onto the pure white snow and highlighting each crystal flake in a stark contrast to those around them. From the discarded and torn packs that lay off to the side, it was clear these men were hikers.

Mohinder's voice broke the moment of silence. "What do you think…?" he began but Peter cut him off with a nod in the direction of a set of animal tracks, recorded in the snow and leading off up into the mountain's trees.

"Mountain lion. Maybe two. We must have scared them off." Quickly he knelt by the man in the tent, checking for signs of life as Mohinder went to his fallen companion and did the same. With his fingers expertly seeking out the tell tale signs of a pulse on the man's throat he grimly met Mohinder's expression after a few moments, shaking his head sadly. Turning the man over slightly, he winced at the sight of the man's chest and throat – it seemed to be one large haematoma, too many deep, tearing lacerations to count. Judging from the state of the man's throat, Peter only hoped it meant he had died quickly. He was more than likely still sleeping when the attack had occurred.

Gently standing, he moved silently away from the unfortunate soul and joined Mohinder. "Well?" he asked, hope straining his voice.

Mohinder hesitated. "He's alive but very weak. We need to get help from the Ranger's station straight away." Peter nodded his agreement, dimly concerned that he was starting to feel less well as the moments progressed. His head was starting to swim and he felt a distant tingling in his arms. With an almighty effort, he forced the discomfort aside. He didn't have time to worry about himself when this man's life hung in the balance.

Mohinder quickly emptied his pack onto the ground, retrieving the First Aid box and rummaging through it for gauzes and bandages. Carefully and with expert hands he began to strip the tattered remains of cloth from the wounds and to apply pressure with the gauze, wrapping the clean linen bandages tightly around the man's torso. As he worked, he glanced over at Peter who was still kneeling opposite.

"I'll stay here with him and do my best to keep him comfortable. Do you think you can make your way back to the ranger's cabin? It shouldn't be too hard in daylight." Peter's resolve doubled.

"Absolutely. It shouldn't come back again but just be careful all the same. I'll be as quick as I can." He reached in to his own pack and emptied it of all but essential supplies for the relatively short trip.

"Take care," Mohinder warned as Peter nodded his agreement and quickly headed back the way they'd come.

Retracing their steps wasn't hard. Without any fresh snowfall, not only was the landscape familiar but their tracks were clearly visible in the snow. If it hadn't been for the fact that his vision was currently spiralling round and round, causing the young man's steps to waver as he moved, Peter would have been making much faster progress. _Get a grip_, he demanded silently. Taking a deep breath, Peter closed his eyes tightly for a moment, willing the world to stop spinning long enough for him to traverse the steep slopes of the ridge through which they had earlier passed. It was, however, an unfortunate mistake. The sheer motion of closing his eyes and losing all bearing seemed to tip the young man forwards. Instinctively he put a foot out to steady himself, aware only seconds too late that he had overstepped the ridge. With a startled yelp, Peter felt both the panic and odd sense of exhilaration of freefall. His arms uselessly flayed in front of him in an effort to stem his fall.

It wasn't his arms that bore the brunt of the impact, however. He landed heavily on his left foot as it gave way sharply beneath him, his legs and body quickly hitting the ground moments later. Dimly, Peter was aware of the tiny popping sound from his foot – or more likely, he only felt it. Thankful his head was spared any impact, Peter could do nothing for a moment but lie still on the ground at the bottom of the ridge. The fall hadn't been far, but it had been awkward and heavy. Cursing his stupidity and clumsiness, Peter lay there catching his breath. Finally, after what seemed like an age but was in fact only a minute, he rolled onto his side with a groan and pushed himself up sitting.

Running a mental checklist over his body, the young nurse swiftly surmised that although he would be badly bruised for some days to come and had sustained a few minor cuts to his arms and legs there was no substantial damage. He looked up around him. There was a more or less gentle slope leading up to where the ridge would have taken him, had he been able to walk more than a few paces without keeling over. Gingerly, Peter pushed himself to his feet, almost crying out in pain as his left foot made firm contact with the ground. Immediately he shifted his weight onto his right foot, wincing in pain and drawing in a sharp breath with a restrained hiss. He didn't want to take his boot off. Knowing what was probably broken, he was aware that, until he could get help, his boot was offering the best support his foot was likely to get.

He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth making his way step by painful step up the slope and back on course for the ranger's cabin.

By the time he had walked for another thirty minutes, Peter was drenched in sweat and breathing in short, harsh breaths. His face was pasty white against his dark brown hair. He had remembered to take a compass bearing shortly after leaving Mohinder and he checked the compass again now. The boy groaned out loud as he realised how far he still was from the cabin. Nevertheless, he forced his body to continue despite the fact that every part of him was screaming its protest. His foot felt as though white-hot nails were being hammered into it with every step.

The young man could no longer deny what he had been vehemently ignoring for the past few hours: he was sick and whatever seemed to be wrong was only getting steadily worse. Peter hated to admit it but he was beginning to get worried. Mohinder had most of the emergency supplies and Peter doubted, at his current pace, that he would make it to the cabin before it began to get dark.

A sudden sound from the trees in front of him brought the boy up short. His breath caught in his throat as he paused, silently where he was. Peter looked around him. There was nowhere he could get to quickly enough if this was a predator. Thoughts of more mountain lions leapt to mind, his ability to fight one off or out run it was laughable in his present condition – hell, in _any_ condition!

Casting his gaze downwards, Peter desperately looked for a branch or anything heavy enough to ward off an attack. There was a fallen branch lying off to the side. It looked thick and a little round and awkward to grip properly but it was the sturdiest thing he could see. Ever so carefully, Peter hobbled across to it. The sound in the trees ahead of him had paused and then continued on, branches clearly being shoved aside as something large moved hastily between them, quickening its pace as if it sensed the young man before it was alone and in danger - unable to prevent even the smallest of attacks. Cursing his hindered pace, Peter stumbled faster towards the branch, leaning his body down to grasp it so quickly that he stumbled and lost his balance. Despite successfully using his hands to break his fall, Peter couldn't stop the startled cry before it had left his lips.

That had done it. Whatever had merely sensed his presence before was now keenly aware of him. The rustling movements in the copse of trees ahead had turned into a run, heading straight towards him. Even with the best will in the world, Peter felt a crushing sensation of misery as he realised he would never be able to stand in time, before whatever was heading his way, was already upon him. His fingers closed shakily around the branch and he gripped it as tightly as he could as he prepared to –

"Peter?!"

Peter stopped – froze, from his spot on the ground. He said nothing, he didn't look up, barely hoping to believe.

"Pete? Thank God!" The voice was at once harsh, relieved and ever so, ever so welcome. Finally, trusting his ears to have not deceived him, Peter looked up and joy flooded his heart as his eyes confirmed he hadn't been tricked.

There, slightly out of breath and staring incredulously at him was his brother. "Nathan!" he breathed. "Thank God it's you. I thought you were another mountain lion."

"You thought I was…" Nathan started to stutter in amazement before the reality of the situation suddenly took over. Peter didn't even remember seeing Nathan move over towards him. He was only aware of suddenly being encased in strong, warm arms as his brother knelt on the ground in front of him, enveloping Peter in a crushing, suffocating hug that seemed to last forever. The young man couldn't work out if it was himself who was shaking or his brother.

"Thank God," Nathan was whispering quietly over and over again, the sound muffled against the side of his head. In that instant, Peter forgot about pain in his arms, he forgot about the searing sensation in his foot and about the dizziness and nausea. He even forgot about his mission to reach the ranger's cabin. All he cared about was that he was once more in the safety of his older brother's arms and soaked up all the warmth and comfort that his embrace offered.

All too abruptly, the moment ended. Nathan's hands moved from around his back to grasp him tightly by the shoulders and roughly pull him out to arm's length. Peter caught a glance of his dark, stormy expression and felt sick. Giving him a hard shake, which rattled his bones, Nathan launched at him.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he shouted, shaking him once again and keeping his hands gripping his younger brother's shoulders in a vice-like hold. Peter winced, partly from his brother's anger and partly because he was now very much reminded of how awful he was feeling.

"I'm sorry," he replied, weakly. Nathan's eyes widened incredulously. Apparently, Peter considered, 'sorry' wasn't going to cut it this time.

"You're sorry?" he demanded, furiously. "Well sorry isn't going to cut it this time!" If Peter had been feeling up to it, he would have felt pleased for at least predicting the next move. However, he could only cringe and allow his brother a few more moments of ranting, feeling too weak to interrupt during full-flow.

"Do you have any idea the worry you've put me through – the danger you could have put yourself in?" Peter glanced down at the ground, his arms starting to ache again and vision starting to swim.

"Let's get this straight once and for all, Peter: when I tell you that you can't do something, you damned well _don't do it_! Is that clear? Because when we get back home, you aren't leaving the house for at _least _a week – _if_ I'm in a good mood! And where the hell is Suresh?" Nathan asked, suddenly looking around them for the absent professor. "I want a damned word with him."

When Peter didn't answer him straight away, Nathan looked at him closely and immediately, anger was replaced by concern. Gently, he cupped Peter's bruised and scratched face in both hands and ran his fingers appraisingly over the scrapes.

"Hey, Pete," he soothed. "What the heck happened?" He eased an arm around his little brother's shoulders and shifted until he was kneeling next to him, pulling Peter close against his side.

"I fell," he mumbled.

"Are you hurt?" Nathan asked, concern heavy in his voice. Peter glanced away. "Peter," Nathan prompted, dangerously. "Tell me everything." The boy sighed, wearily.

"I think my foot is kind of broken," he admitted. "But everything else is fine, I promise."

Immediately, guilt crashed over Nathan and he laid a gentle kiss against the side of his little brother's head. "Oh, Pete – I'm sorry. How did you fall?" Again, the moment of hesitation. It wasn't lost on his brother.

"The truth," he reminded him, sternly. Peter couldn't meet his gaze this time and that made Nathan very, very nervous. Taking a deep breath, Peter explained.

"I was dizzy, feeling sick – kind of light-headed. I lost my balance along one of the ridges." Nathan's eyes narrowed in concern.

"What's wrong?" he questioned. Peter shrugged, helplessly. Something suddenly clicked in Nathan's mind. "Did you feel any of these symptoms _before_ you left New York?" he demanded in his low, dangerous voice. Peter felt so utterly exhausted and miserable that he honestly felt that at any moment, he could break down and cry. Wordlessly, he nodded.

He could feel Nathan willing the anger down but knew all too well that he was going to hear about this at a later date. "Okay Peter," Nathan began steadily, calmly, "we'll talk about that later. Right now we need to get you back to the cabin and get you some help." At that, Peter's head sprang up.

"Yes! That's what I was trying to get when I found you!"

Nathan looked annoyed. "Yeah – no wonder! Why the hell didn't Suresh go and get the help? What? You break your foot and he sends you off to call for your own ambulance?" Peter shook his head.

"It's not for me," he insisted. He then proceeded to explain all about the mountain lion and the attack on the two men. Nathan listened intently, still a mite annoyed that Suresh had sent his brother off to get help when he was very obviously sick, even if he hadn't fallen and broken his foot at that point. Then again, Nathan never would have run in to Peter if he hadn't been the one to come but it still didn't sit right with the elder Petrelli.

When Peter was done with his story, Nathan carefully helped ease Peter up to a standing position, being sure to wrap an arm around his shoulder and lean Peter's weight into him. It was a relatively level walk back to the cabin and, seeing Peter gasp in pain as his foot made contact with the ground and his illness caused his body to shudder, Nathan was sorely tempted to ignore his brother's indignation and simply carry him back to the cabin. However, the fight he would have to endure to get that one past his brother would do more harm than good at that moment. So, ensuring Peter was as supported and as comfortable on his feet as possible, Nathan began leading them both back towards the safety of the cabin and the means to contact the rescue services.

The two brothers had walked another ten minutes before Nathan noticed a shift in Peter's composure. The young man was becoming increasingly agitated, his breathing short, quick and shallow. Nathan paused and slowed them to a halt. "Don't slow down, Nathan," Peter insisted through gasping breaths. "We have to get Mohinder and that man help." However, Nathan's priority was and always would be, the boy currently cradled to his side. Ignoring Peter's protests, he placed a finger at the pulse on his brother's throat and counted. It was fast – way too fast.

"I think you need to slow down a bit, Peter – your pulse is racing." Peter shook his head, his unsteady breathing making it difficult to answer. He pulled himself forwards and, for the moment, Nathan carried on walking with him, all the while looking over at his younger brother's pale countenance. His skin seemed a sickly white colour and glistened with the sheen of perspiration.

For a moment, Peter closed his eyes. It was harder to breathe now. The pain and tingling in his arms had now spread to his chest, rippling through him as fingers move across a piano's keys. "Are you alright?" Nathan stopped once more and turned his brother to face him. When Peter opened his eyes again they were shining with panic. Nathan's heart started to beat soundly in his chest, drumming away like a tribal dance. Peter was scared. Whatever was happening, his brother had finally admitted that it had him scared. The pretence was gone and in its place was his vulnerable, frightened younger brother – his eyes imploring Nathan to, once again, fix it, make it okay.

"Peter?" Nathan questioned, sharply. Peter's mouth opened and closed once.

"Nathan?" he stammered. "I don't feel so good."

He didn't get out another word as Nathan watched in horror as his little brother crashed to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

Thanks for reading, folks! As always, reviews help make a speedy and inspirational chapter 8! 


	8. Chapter 8

Fourteen Days – Chapter 8

Standard Disclaimer applies – if I owned them, Season 2 would not be as frustrating as it is, right now!

Also – UK writer so some spellings may vary.

Thanks again to my muse, Teoryn and for her incredibly useful medical training – lol. BTW, I know Peter's medication in this chapter, sounds like it should be used in the components of a bomb but we've double-checked and I promise it's right! Just sounds a little odd…

As always thank you all very much for your reviews – review replies at the end of this chapter. I really hope those of you who are following this story find the next part worth the wait. Please enjoy.

* * *

There they were: those seconds of complete oblivion ticking by slowly in agonizing, resounding, heavy thuds. Nathan couldn't breathe, couldn't process a thought, couldn't move – for those few seconds, as he watched his brother crumple to the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his body bent double in a manner that should have been painful to anyone with a sense of feeling, Nathan simply _stopped_.

All too soon, awareness flooded back into the politician's mind and with it, coursing through his veins, the urgency needed to spur him in to action. Instantly, he was kneeling by Peter's head, calling his brother's name, looking for any sign of a response. When none was forthcoming he held his ear above his brother's mouth, watching for the rise and fall of his chest and waiting for the feel of his breath against his face. For a moment, Nathan could feel nothing – his brother lay motionless and unresponsive. Instantly, his fingers scrambled to find a pulse.

A thousand thoughts vied for Nathan's attention, ricocheting round his brain like ping-pong balls in a lottery machine. His brain screamed at him to remember the basic CPR training he'd been given over the years: was it half the number of breaths to compressions? And how did the number change when there was only one person administering it instead of two? But then again, he was supposed to check his airways first, wasn't he? They had to be clear or he wouldn't be able to breathe. Suddenly information that had always been accessible to him when they had been mere facts and figures now appeared infuriatingly out of reach.

And just like that, he felt it, faint against his cheek, the feathery touch of his brother's tremulous breathing. To Nathan it felt like a cool refreshing breeze across a scorching and unforgiving desert. The tiny, thready and erratic trembling under his fingers, pressed against his sibling's throat, eased the painful constriction in his lungs enough for him to take in a deep, refreshing breath of air. The flood of oxygen cleared the last of the fog from his head and gave him the impetus to do what was needed – to act for Peter. Positioning himself behind his baby brother, Nathan lifted him by the shoulders and eased him back until his head was resting, cushioned securely in his lap.

"Come on, Peter," he whispered as his fingers fumbled inside his jacket pocket for the bottle of pills Nathan only hoped to God was still in there. "Come on, Petey, you can do this, it'll be okay, kiddo. It'll be okay." Success. He felt the cool curve of the plastic and in less time than it took to tell, he had the lid prised off and had shaken out a pill into a surprisingly steady palm. The elder Petrelli knew how it was supposed to work, had listened intently as the doctors had explained the nitroglycerin and its effects and Nathan could only pray that this time wouldn't be a fluke exception. With one hand he pried open Peter's mouth and with the other, he worked the tiny pill into his fingers and placed it carefully under the tongue before closing his brother's mouth.

Then he sat back and began the agonizing seconds of waiting where he could little more for his brother than allow time to pass and Fate to unfold. It was not a position that Nathan Petrelli appreciated. Where Peter was concerned he wanted control – absolute, unquestioned control. Peter was his brother, his charge, his conscience, his only true friend and his life. He could live months at a time without seeing him, but not a day in those months would matter without him.

"Come on back to me, Pete, now," he began to murmur, running his fingers through the boy's hair. "Come on now!" he insisted, as Peter remained motionless in his arms, as if his harsher tone would scare his brother into obedience. Nathan chuckled out loud at the thought: his harsher tones couldn't scare his brother into obedience even in consciousness so what chance he thought he currently had was beyond him.

Slowly but surely however, Nathan felt the beginning signs of the young man stirring. His head lolled slightly to one side and it appeared to Nathan as though a hint of colour was beginning to dawn across his younger sibling's pallid skin, washing away the remnants of his all too-close encounter with death, like fingerprints misting from glass. The elder brother watched, transfixed on the returning wave of life spreading over the boy's lax and peaceful expression.

As he did so, the life began flowing through his own veins again. Ever so slowly, Peter's eyelids began to flutter open revealing the deep brown orbs beneath them. Though his skin remained pale and clammy and his breathing was uneasy and shaky, to Nathan, Peter had never been such a welcoming sight. A smile broke across the elder man's face.

In that instant, cradled in his lap and struggling to wake, Nathan was transported back to times long before when his brother had been a very young child and it had fallen to his him to rouse an extremely sleepy boy for a day of nursery school. No one in the family had quite had the knack of gently waking his brother up as Nathan did. Of course, he would make a show of grumbling – what self-respecting big brother wouldn't? But secretly, he had loved it and was loath to have any one take that time away from him.

Instantly he began murmuring soft, reassuring words and stilling his brother's movements with soothing noises. "Shh, Pete – lie still. It's okay. Take it easy, buddy." Peter complied, stilling his movements for the time being, willing to trust his brother's judgement. The preceding events to his collapse slowly started coming back to him, cutting through the confusion that still remained.

Nathan's left hand was checking his pulse while his right brushed across the side of his face. "I gave you a nitroglycerin. Your heartbeat was irregular - it's relaxed your heart muscles. Just give yourself a moment before you try moving." Weakly, Peter nodded his head in acquiescence. He stared up at his brother soaking up the security of his presence. Nathan counted the beats pulsing against his fingertips. Gradually they began evening out to a rhythm more acceptable to the relieved politician. He leaned down and gently laid a light kiss on the young man's forehead.

"How are you feeling now?" he questioned. He needn't have worried about making his expression stern and earnest: Peter was too exhausted to think about lying.

"Not too bad," he admitted after a moment's thought. "I'll be okay."

"Do you think you're feeling well enough to move?" He shifted a little until he was sitting down more comfortably, still keeping Peter's upper body secure in his lap. Peter closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled, deeply, taking the oxygen in to his lungs and then exhaling slowly.

"Yeah," he replied, softly. "Sure. Just help me up, will you?" Nathan hesitated.

"You sure? Really? We can wait here if you need a few more minutes."

Peter cracked a half grin at his brother. "Nathan, not only is this ground freezing but my foot is really kinda killing me and we still need to get help for Mohinder and that man. All things considered I cannot lie here any longer."

Nathan narrowed his eyes. "You'll lie here as long as you _need _to, Peter," he insisted, firmly. "_You're_ my priority, not Mohinder and not some random hiker. But if you really do feel well enough, then let's get you up."

With great care, Nathan extracted himself from underneath Peter and shifted to his knees. Slipping his hands under his little brother's arms he rose to his feet, bringing Peter up standing with him. Peter was no sooner vertical again before he leaned against his brother's chest, keeping his weight solely on his uninjured foot.

"Okay," Peter announced, with more strength in his voice than he felt in his body, "the station can't be too far from here. If I just lean my weight on this foot, then you can…" He stopped, abruptly with a startled cry. Nathan's arms had swiftly moved from around his shoulders and one was now across his back while his brother leaned down to scoop the other one under an indignant Peter's knees.

"Uh, Nathan?" Peter stammered as his brother lifted him up and into his arms, cradling him securely against his chest. "What exactly are you doing?" The look Nathan shot him almost made him regret the question.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Peter?"

Peter shifted in his brother's arms, trying to break Nathan's hold in order to get one leg back on the ground but found his sibling's hold would not budge. "Well, it looks like you're carrying me," he replied, still a touch uncertain. "But for the life of me, I can't figure out why."

"Which is possibly why you became a nurse and not a doctor."

He continued, smoothly on over Peter's insulted pout. "I'm carrying you, Peter - and you will not object to it - for three reasons. First, you've narrowly avoided a full-blown heart attack and you may yet have one if we don't get you inside, relaxed and taken care of as quickly as possible." Peter's pout merely intensified and he vainly continued to tug at his brother's fingers as they held him trapped to his chest.

When he wanted to, Nathan had first-hand knowledge that his baby brother could pack a mean punch but even then, he was no real match for his elder brother. Add to that, Peter's somewhat feeble condition and Nathan had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself laughing at the young man's escape attempts.

Instead, he continued his speech as if it were a mild irritation. "Secondly, because you may not appreciate clinging on to me for dear life as we fly back to the cabin." At that, Peter ceased his struggling and met his brother's gaze full on.

"And thirdly," Nathan finished, "because if you throw any more crap my way about this, I'll add another week to your sentence when we get back home."

But it turned out there was no need for threats and promises. Peter was grinning at him in wide-eyed wonderment like a school-kid whose parents had arrived at the school gates in the latest super-car to pick him up. "Why didn't you just say we were flying?" Peter enthused. "I wouldn't have objected at all!"

Nathan rolled his eyes in exasperation suddenly very glad he _hadn't_ had this ability while he'd been on Peter's school run. "Whatever, Peter," Nathan muttered, not especially unkindly. "Just don't move around too much. You slip this time and you're looking at a hell of a lot longer stay in hospital. Now just make sure you don't make a sound when we come down. The last thing I want is for anyone to notice us. It's bad enough I'm having to do this in the first place."

As he spoke, Nathan moved further out into the middle of the clearing so that no overhanging branches would get in the way of his take-off. God, even _thinking the words_ made him feel ridiculous. If this weren't his brother's life on the line, they would damn well still be walking! Not to mention, though it wasn't something he would never be admitting to his idolising younger brother, but if it was _this_ cold on ground level, it had to be near to_ freezing _up there. Nathan did well at a lot of things but extreme temperatures weren't really among them.

Glancing down at Peter to assess his condition one last time, Nathan was content that he seemed well enough to at least make the short trip. "Ready?" he asked. He couldn't quite keep the smile off his face when he saw his brother's eyes light up. "Here we go then."

And with that, Nathan crouched down a little lower to the ground before springing up and launching himself and his brother high into the air, the wind whipping past them in a glorious, exhilarating moment of freedom. The roar of the wind made verbal communication practically impossible but even if it were, each Petrelli found himself lost in his own, private world.

As the magnificent scenery shot past beneath them, Nathan concentrated all his efforts on scouring the ground for a suitable landing place and the wooden structure of the cabin, nestled in amongst the bed of trees: away from curious eyes yet near enough to spare his brother any longer a painful walk than would be necessary. Peter, his eyes wide with wonder, greedily took in every last, wondrous detail as though the world would never again be this simple, this liberating and this peaceful.

* * *

It was with barely a thud that the two brothers landed to the rear of the cabin. Nathan was relieved by the melting of the snow immediately surrounding the cabin: a casual inspection of the area, after all, would have revealed no footprints leading up along the trail and back to the ranger's station.

Peter's eyes were still alive with awe and wonderment and, as Nathan reluctantly set him back down on his feet – well, _foot_ – it took a moment for the real world to sink back into place for the young man. Of course, Nathan would argue, the _real world_ according to Peter Petrelli would be a Neverland for most other people. In steadily increasing waves, pain began flooding back into his body, exhaustion gripping his bones and muscles as though lead weights had suddenly been attached to every part of his skeleton. His eyes closed and his body stumbled back against his older brother like a dead weight.

They were mere steps from the front door and, to avoid causing his little brother the embarrassment of being carried in public, Nathan wrapped an arm around his waist and guided a drowsy Peter into slinging an arm around his broad shoulders, securing it there with Peter's hand clasped in his own.

Then, ensuring he was supporting the weight from Peter's injured side, Nathan shuffled them step-by-step along the chip-wood path to the door of the cabin. Once there, he released Peter's hand long enough to hammer on the sturdy wooden door.

When he swung open the door, it was clear that Ranger Jim had been about to set out, presumably on routine business. He stopped abruptly when he saw the two men and without any questions, ushered the travellers inside. There was a rudimentary medical cot with supplies in the corner of the room and, while he set about boiling some water and fixing up hot drinks, Jim gleaned the bare bones of the visit from Nathan while instructing him to help Peter to the bed.

Grateful to have somewhere warm and comfortable to finally be able to lay his brother down, Nathan did as he was asked quickly, easing Peter onto the mattress and gently but firmly pushing him down until he was lying back. Examining his brother's features, though still pale and drawn, Nathan noticed he was starting to regain his animation so keeping him horizontal for much longer would become problematic.

As if the extra weight of the blankets Jim had handed to him would help keep his brother in place, Nathan draped them over Peter and securely tucked them in. When he turned back around Jim was once more standing behind him, this time with two mugs of steaming liquid in his hands. He handed one to Nathan and nodded to the chair by the bed. Nathan surprised himself with how readily and easily he acquiesced, seating himself almost immediately. Jim certainly had a way with people.

"Now," the ranger began, moving to stand by the foot of the bed and pulling back the covers from Peter's injured foot. "From what you've told me when you first came in, I've just been on the radio and got Search and Rescue heading our way. They're going to need some more details from your brother as to whereabouts he left his friend." Grimly he shook his head. "Don't get many attacks round this time of year but that's mainly due to a lack of folks foolhardy enough to try camping up here in the snow."

Nathan shot Peter a quick glance and shook his head – partly in resurfacing annoyance at his brother's antics and partly in embarrassment that his own kith and kin had been one of those people foolish enough to try it. Peter, who was becoming more alert as the moments passed, had the good grace to at least appear abashed at this. He struggled to sit up.

"You're supposed to lie still," Nathan admonished.

Peter shook his head, stubbornly. "That's not what he said," the young man insisted. "He said to just help me to the cot – I _heard_. He never said anything about lying still." If it weren't for the steaming mug of coffee in his grasp, Nathan would almost have had to sit on his hands to avoid unwise physical contact with his little brother.

"If you were _meant_ to sit up," Nathan ground out, "then I would have been asked to take you to a _chair_. As it is, I wasn't."

For some reason, Ranger Jim got the impression he might need to step in to this one – neither brother seeming particularly willing to back down. "Actually, Mr. Petrelli I looked in some to Peter's condition when you first alerted me you were looking for him. I don't see a reason why he can't sit up as long as he keeps off his feet." The politician smiled tightly and kept his eyes trained on Jim knowing if he actually _saw_ Peter's smug expression there would have been no way he could avoid cuffing him sharply.

Peter struggled momentarily to free himself from the blankets then shuffled up until he was leaning against the wall. Nathan was there, immediately, arranging pillows behind his back and for once, Peter stopped complaining and allowed it. With a mumbled thanks to his brother, Peter turned his attention to the ranger.

"So how can I help?" he asked, grimacing in pain as Jim carefully eased off his boot. He fought the urge to snap at the man to leave it alone, tempting as it was.

"Well," the ranger replied, maneuvering the sock around the ankle and off the swollen foot, "I know which direction you boys were headed in last night and from what you told me, I can just about gauge how far you could have gone based on your travelling time but it would be real helpful if you could identify some features on a map or if you had a reading we could follow."

Peter was biting his tongue to avoid crying out, sharply, as Jim began to run careful hands along his foot. As discreetly as he could, Nathan moved one hand to his brother's wrist determined to keep track of the shifting patterns of his pulse. Peter hissed in pain as Jim's hands made contact with a particularly painful spot. For a moment, dots seemed to dance in front of his eyes. Biting back a further grimace, Peter closed his eyes momentarily and concentrated on delivering the information that could save this stranger's life.

"I took a compass reading before I left them." He watched as Jim smiled in relief. From beside him, Nathan felt the tingling of pride creep into his chest at his brother's forethought. Reaching a hand down in to the pocket of his jeans, Peter retrieved a folded, slightly crumpled, piece of paper and handed it to the ranger. Jim gave it a quick glance before turning his attention back to the young man in his care.

"It's just what we need," he remarked, gratefully. "Now, as for you, this doesn't look too bad, though I imagine it feels a hell of a lot worse." Peter gave a hollow chuckle combined with a fresh wince and gasp of pain as Jim completed his assessment.

"Course, I'm not a professional and being a nurse you likely know as much as me but from what I can tell, looks like you've busted one of your metatarsals, right here in the middle of your foot. See the swelling and the bruising?" Nathan peered over at the foot and winced in sympathy. _See_ the swelling? It was practically a balloon – you could hardly _miss_ it.

"I can tape the toes together for you," the ranger continued, "give you some support but it's the best I can do until we can get you out of here." Peter nodded his thanks and Jim set to work on the task at hand with a reassuring air of confidence.

"I'll take him down in the car," Nathan said, addressing the seasoned ranger. "Can you tell me where the nearest hospital or clinic is?" However, before the man could reply, Peter interrupted.

"No, Nathan!"

Nathan glanced down at him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Now, Pete," he began, sympathetically. "I know you don't like being on the patient end of hospitals but they won't let you on an airplane until you get checked out." But Peter was still shaking his head, determinedly.

"That's not what I meant. I meant I'm not leaving here until I see that Mohinder and that man are safe."

"Peter!" Nathan began, his voice rising. "That's ridiculous. Jim's going to give those co-ordinates to Search and Rescue who, _by the way_, know this mountain _very_ well and both Suresh and your hiker will be rescued in no time at all!"

"Fine," Peter agreed, folding his arms across his chest and fixing his brother with a pointed stare, "then it shouldn't matter if I sit and wait for them now, should it?" Nathan threw his hands up in the air in frustration. His damned little brother could be so stubbornly _infuriating_ sometimes!

"Peter," he began, attempting to sound reasonable. "You almost had a heart attack – you _need_ to get checked out." Peter didn't look like he was backing down any time soon. Instead, he met his brother's gaze, calmly.

"Yes," he countered. "And I will do. But we both know it's just a precaution. The pill did its job and waiting another hour before seeing a doctor is not going to make a difference. I'm lying down, I'm warm - I'm not stressed. You know I can handle an extra hour." Then he paused and dropped his voice a notch, meeting Nathan's unhappy expression with his own entreating one. "I _need_ to know that they're okay, Nathan. I need to be here. Please."

For a moment, Nathan's expression looked like it had been etched in stone. His jaw muscles began to work overtime and he turned away from his brother in an attempt to reign in his anger. A moment later, he spun back round on his heel and faced his little brother head on. When he spoke he spoke clearly and meaningfully, his voice low, quiet and riddled with concern, still wearing the mask of anger:

"I have every right," he snapped, enunciating each word perfectly, "to haul your ass out of here myself."

Peter looked down to his lap, his hair hanging down over his face and half covering his soulful eyes, intense emotion shining behind them. "I know," he conceded, quietly. "But, _please_?" Nathan couldn't help it. His conviction was wavering as surely as his heart was softening. There was little that a heartfelt entreaty from his baby brother _couldn't_ accomplish. Before he could form a reply, however, the ranger's voice cut through the gap. Both men started at it, seemingly having forgotten they were still in their host's company.

"Sir, just to make things clear: I'm going to be leaving momentarily to join the rescue party. They're going to need the team to take this man to the hospital and another to ensure this Mohinder Suresh gets back to the cabin safely. If you folks choose to stay here, you're going to be on your own." Peter nodded his head in understanding, eyes still downcast, waiting for Nathan to reach his conclusion. Nathan's expression was, currently, difficult to read.

"Now," Jim continued, "I'd feel a whole lot happier leaving you fellas alone if I understood a little bit more about what Peter has been through, besides what I managed to read up on. What exactly did this pill you gave him do?"

Nathan glanced down at the rather more subdued Peter before he started to explain. "Peter's heart was beating irregularly – probably caused by a lot of things leading up to today – but the bottom line is it caused him to collapse.

The pill has widened the blood vessels to his heart and relaxed the heart-beat." Nathan sighed, heavily, realising he had just argued himself out of his own case. "He's stable enough for the time being if we just keep him rested."

Jim seemed to take this all in, nodding his head, thoughtfully. "Well, okay then. If you're sure. Any problems, the radio's right over there – the emergency channel is clearly marked." Nathan didn't acknowledge this last part as he had already turned back to Peter.

"I'm not happy about this," he insisted, forcefully. "Anything and I mean _anything_ that goes remotely wrong and I will have you out of here so fast your head will spin."

"I get it," Peter placated, quietly releasing the breath he had been holding. The young man knew quite keenly, that if his brother truly wished it there would be nothing he could do to stop him.

Finally, Nathan turned back to their host. "Then I guess we're all agreed. Good luck."

* * *

Twenty minutes ago, Ranger Jim had joined the Search and Rescue helicopters heading swiftly towards the stranded party. Nathan and Peter had passed the time in near silence, Nathan's routine checking of his brother's pulse and enquiries into how he was feeling being the only sounds to break the noiseless fog.

Finally, on the tenth round of pulse-checking, Peter snapped in irritation, sharply pulling his wrist out of Nathan's reaching grasp and burying it under the blanket. "I'm _fine_," he insisted. "It hasn't changed in the last ten minutes!" Far from being satisfied with this answer, however, the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. Nathan's voice was low and dangerous, the words unnaturally drawn out:

"Give me your arm."

Immediately, the young man's bravado drained away and the familiar sense of anxiety returned. Miserably, he removed his arm from the covers and wordlessly held it out for his brother to take. Peter knew enough to know what was happening. Did Nathan _need_ to check his pulse? No. Was Peter allowed to _refuse_ to _let _him? No. This was all power play and he was never going to win.

"Your hands are nearly frost-bitten," Nathan muttered as he counted the beats. "Did you lose your gloves up there?"

Peter shook his head. "Didn't pack them. Didn't know it was going to be so cold." Nathan finished his count and released his hand, staring hard at his brother.

"Did you not _look _at a weather forecast for Colorado?" he exclaimed. "Jesus, Peter – is just a _little_ common sense too much to ask for?"

"I was in a hurry!" Peter returned, defensively but Nathan cut him off.

"If you're going to make that in to your excuse, think _very_ carefully before continuing." The anger was back now. Twenty minutes of silence had been too much for Nathan to take and Peter was almost gladder of the confrontation than the mounting tension that prolonged silence created.

"Okay!" Peter admitted, holding one hand up. "I screwed up on the packing detail – hardly the end of the world but I admitted it. Are you happy now?"

"Oh, am I happy now?" his brother shot back. "What do you think? Heidi's home, by the way. She _was _happy enough until she found out you'd taken off. Now she's worried sick, so thanks for that."

Peter's face immediately crumpled into a miserable expression. Guilt gnawed at his insides. "I'm sorry I worried her," he offered, sincerely. "Honestly, I never _meant _to worry anyone." Far from calming Nathan, however, that small confession seemed to make him explode all the more.

"Well what the _hell_ did you _think_ was going to happen?" he roared. "You just don't think at all, do you? My God, Peter – to live just one day in your world…" He trailed off, eyes still fired and blazing. Peter hung his head not wanting to meet his gaze. Instead he worried his bottom lip between his teeth and kept his eyes locked on the blankets.

"I mean," Nathan continued, "your alphabet must go straight from A to Z, screw the other letters in between. If they get in your way, you just ignore them!"

"That's not true," Peter insisted with a distinct lack of conviction in his voice. Nathan reached for his wrist once more, checking the timing against his watch. No matter how angry he may be at him, Nathan could never neglect his duty to his brother's well being. He was pleased then to see that Peter remained fine and stable. He'd been right about that one thing, then.

When Nathan spoke again, his voice had returned to a civil volume though it kept the hard edge lining it. "You know I would have let you go. I'd have worked it some way, on _my terms_. I was just asking for a little bit of time, Peter. Was that too much to ask? Did you _have_ to go running half-cocked into the wilderness to prove a point to me?"

"I wasn't…" Peter began to protest.

"Weren't what? Proving a point? Because I know you well enough and I think you were."

Peter didn't answer immediately and that in it-self was telling enough. A sliver of shame began to creep into his cheeks. Quietly, he pulled his wrist from his brother's hold.

"I wasn't half-cocked," he mumbled. "I forgot some clothes. It happens on any trip to lots of people. Doesn't mean I wasn't prepared."

"You think you were prepared?" Nathan questioned, his voice so low that Peter looked up in surprise. Of all the things for Nathan to chastise him for, he honestly hadn't expected the worst of it to be his packing skills. He had clothes, camping gear, food and a tent. All things considered, with less than twenty-four hours notice, Peter had thought he'd done pretty darned well.

Nathan's dangerous tone, however, had seemed to beg to differ. Without another word, Nathan reached into his pocket and dropped a small plastic bottle onto Peter's lap. Puzzled, Peter picked it up and examined the label. His eyebrows raised in a question. Nathan seemed happy to oblige him. "I take it you recognise that?"

Peter was starting to get a very bad feeling about this. "I can read the label," he muttered.

Nathan's tone didn't waver. "And would you like to take a guess where I found it?"

The bad feeling grew worse. "In my backpack?" the young man ventured, somewhat confidently and somewhat in hope.

Nathan angrily swiped the bottle back up again. "In the medicine cabinet, Peter! Back home – in New York. I brought it with me, along with your daily medication as well." Peter's mouth dropped open. He was sure he had taken them – positive! But then again, as he cast his mind back, had he actually gone into the cabinet? Had he put them in his pocket? Apparently not.

"I…I meant to take them," he insisted.

"You _meant_ to?" Nathan repeated, temper soaring. "Well that's a whole lot of good, isn't it? What does the label say on it, Peter? How long do you have to take one of these if something happens?"

Peter shook his head, miserably. "I'm sorry," he offered. His brother didn't feel so inclined to let him off so easily.

"_How long_?" he repeated, heatedly. "What? Days? Hours? Or how about _minutes_? _Seconds_?" It was no longer the furious, demanding tone of his older brother that was causing Peter to choke up, it was the fear, the pain and vulnerability he saw reflected in Nathan's eyes. _No one_ made his brother appear weak, helpless: no one, except apparently, him.

Nathan was forced to suddenly take a deep breath, stop. Take another deep breath - pause again. He turned away from his brother and paced a few steps across the room. It gave him the room he needed to calm down and Peter the space he needed to regain his lost composure. Finally, when Nathan trusted his temper, he turned back round to face his brother.

"You don't ever, _ever _forget your medication, Peter." His brother hastily nodded.

"I don't care if you're going for a walk, heading in to town or just stepping out into the garden for some air, you _never_ go _anywhere_ without them. I swear to God, you do that again and I will make your life a living hell until you learn to remember. And you can bet your ass you're going to hear about this when you get home."

His point made, Nathan walked over to the chair by Peter's bed and sank down, wearily into it. He closed his eyes, leaving Peter to his own thoughts. After a moment, Peter dared to venture what was on his mind.

"You look tired," he commented, unsure of what his reception would be.

Nathan merely opened his eyes again and regarded him, quietly. "I haven't had much sleep lately." Peter didn't respond, knowing it was down to him, too.

"When we get back," Nathan began, quietly, "I want you to see Dr. Rockwell."

"I thought I had to see someone here, before I flew?" Peter questioned. He readjusted himself to get more comfortable on the bed, ignoring the pain in his foot as he shifted and swiping his hair back behind his ear.

"You do. But you still have your appointment that you missed this morning." He heard Peter's restrained sigh and resisted one of his own. Peter didn't get it. The truth of the situation – the reality – it just eluded him.

"You don't get it, do you, Pete?" he questioned, softly yet insistently. "You don't see what's going on."

"What?" Peter asked, leaning forwards. "What don't I get?"

Nathan attempted to explain patiently, too weary and too drained from arguing with his brother to maintain his anger.

"You've missed your therapy sessions – no explanations, no nothing. You think the courts are going to like that? Then you miss your medical check-up – an appointment that would have probably caught the problems today before they happened. And why? Because you ran off with a crazy Indian professor to explore your powers with some mountain men. Am I supposed to use that one when I'm being evaluated at the quarterly review?"

From his bed, Peter remained silent though from the concerned expression on his face, it was clear he was thinking about Nathan's words.

Suddenly, Nathan leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I'm trying, Peter. I really am trying but what am I supposed to do?" He looked up and fixed Peter with a pointed look. "You're not eating and I can't seem to make a blind bit of difference on that. I turn around for five minutes and you've left the State. You're only two weeks out of the hospital and already you're sick again."

The desperation twinned with gentle accusation in Nathan's voice was scaring Peter now. He wasn't used to this. His brother never admitted weakness, never hinted at defeat – not to him. He wanted to say something - _anything_ to bring his sibling's mood round yet found that, for once, he had nothing to say. Peter opened his mouth but was forced to close it again when the words died in his throat.

Nathan noticed this and smiled. "It's okay, Peter," he assured him. "It's not your fault: it's mine. I want to believe that living with me is the best thing for you but the bottom line is, unless you go to your appointments, you turn up to your therapy sessions, you show you're making progress then I don't know how long I can keep you with me."

At this, Peter's eyes widened. Two weeks ago Peter would have laughed at that same prediction – scoffed that it was exactly what he wanted to happen so why should he give a damn. But now, fourteen days on something seemed to have shifted between them and Peter couldn't tell when it had happened.

He still wasn't sure about a lot of things, only that he could no longer treat Nathan's worrying proclamation with indifference. It _mattered_ to the young nurse: it mattered where he lived, it mattered if he saw his brother every day, it mattered if Nathan was with him in any way, shape or form on his journey into the unknown. Dimly, he felt unbidden tears prick sharply in his eyes and blinked them back, rapidly.

As if sensing his brother's internal epiphany, Nathan rose and moved to kneel by Peter's bedside, resting a warm hand on his arm. Peter was made vaguely aware of how long it had been since Nathan had had any contact with him that hadn't been for the purpose of checking his pulse or marred with the looming threat of retribution for his wayward actions.

"You know that Ma's contesting my custody award, don't you?"

"She's what?" Peter's shock was registered in both his voice and expression. "But she never said anything to me." Nathan shook his head and smiled, wryly.

"She's our mother, Peter. Do you really think that's her style? But I can sure as hell read the signs. Now I know you love her – we both do – but do you really want to be legally under her thumb again?" Peter couldn't help but shudder at the thought and that actually made Nathan laugh out loud. He leaned down and kissed Peter tenderly on the top of his head.

"Don't worry about it. I've had my lawyers doing a little pre-emptive prep work, just in case." Noticing Peter's still wary, pale expression Nathan offered him one of his trademark, confident, all-fixing grins. "Hey," he assured him. "I've got everything under control. Trust me."

Peter leaned back and smiled. "Always," he said allowing his own confidence to slowly rebuild. His big brother was back in the game and that was all the encouragement Peter needed.

Seeing the signs of exhaustion cross his little brother's face, Nathan leapt on the opportunity. "Why don't you lie back and try to get a little sleep?" he suggested. Surprisingly, Peter agreed without the token fight. He nodded and eased himself back on the mattress as Nathan readjusted his pillows and blanket for him. Then he sat back and watched as Peter closed his eyes and, almost immediately, drifted into a well-needed slumber, his bangs falling across his eyes and nose.

Absently, Nathan pushed them back behind Peter's ear, hoping to God he hadn't just lied to his brother and desperately fearing that he had.

* * *

A/N – next part is on its way, soon. I've had a couple of incredibly hectic weekends which have rudely interrupted my writing flow but I promise to make like a hermit for the next couple of weeks until I can get the last couple of chapters out. Hermits don't tend to find much food but they have been known to glean sustenance from reviews and use it to channel vital energy into their typing fingers… : - )

Review replies:

**graviation gig** – thanks for letting me know what you thought – you guessed right! Hope you liked this chapter.

**Allegra** – aw, thank you very much. I'm glad the Peter whump was up to spec!

**Teoryn** – thanks for your eternal support and lovely reviews. Yes, hard to believe sometimes, but I'd like to think Nathan made Peter's life a little more bearable growing up.

**Wandering Racoon** – thank you for your lovely review. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

**Sami1010220** – Thanks for your review. Hope you liked this chapter.

**SparkRocker** – thanks – I appreciate your review.

**Ahreada** – lol! I think we're on the same wavelength, don't worry. Thanks for the review.

**Lenlie** – thanks – glad you liked the ending and I hope this chapter is worth the wait.

**AvaDonovan** – thanks for taking the time to let me know what you think. Glad you like story so far.

**Shadowtheo** – your review was a real treat to read! I'm glad you thought they were in character – I tried to keep them that way. I hope you liked this part.

**Toothpaste kisses** – thanks for your review! Hope you liked it.

**Swordy **– Wow – your reviews really put a smile on my face. They're very carefully written and thank you for the compliments. I'm really glad you're enjoying the story. I understand completely about the late-night reading when you know you really should be going to bed! Like now, for me…

**ShaolinQueen** – Thanks for the review – glad you like the story and hope you liked the update.

**Freakydarling77 **– Thank you so much for the kind compliments – I hope I still managed to keep them in character in this chapter. I'm really flattered you like the story so much. As for Claude, well we shall have to wait and see…wink

**Marinawings** – thanks for the compliments! I'm glad you like the story and the brotherly love. Ah, those lovely Petrelli brothers. Gotta love that Peter-drama, eh?


	9. Chapter 9

Fourteen Days – Chapter 9

Standard Disclaimer applies in that I still don't own them (however, Christmas IS coming and I have been a very GOOD girl this year…)

Please enjoy!

As the wind whipped across the mountaintop, moving through the branches of the trees with icy fingers, Mohinder wrapped his coat and scarf more closely about himself and ensured the blanket covered his patient as snugly as possible. Peter had been gone for several hours and though his patient, miraculously, remained stable he couldn't tell how much longer that would last.

The young professor began rubbing his hands together allowing the friction to help spread some much-needed warmth into his fingers. He had managed to build a small fire but the heat it gave off hardly seemed to penetrate the skin. At the very least, Mohinder hoped the rising smoke would serve as a signal to the rescue services. He stamped his feet on the ground in an effort to keep the blood flowing.

Mohinder checked his watch again. Peter must have reached help by now, he assured himself. Though, the thought occurred to him, the young nurse had been looking pallid and shaky. Inwardly, Mohinder regretted the decision to send the boy off for aid. He was obviously ill but had been insistent he could hold his own and Suresh had to respect his wishes even if the young man's brother refused to do so. He really could not see a reason for Nathan Petrelli to have taken such drastic measures with his younger brother, despite the politician's contrary assertions.

He had to admit though, as the hours crept on, he'd begun to have his doubts: what if Peter hadn't made it? That fall he'd taken the previous evening came to mind. At the time, urged on by an almost feverish desire to complete his experiment, Mohinder had been happy enough to accept Peter's explanation but deep down his companion's behaviour had him worried. If he'd fallen again, this time alone and en route to reach their rescuers it may well have doomed them both.

It was then with an enormous sense of relief that the young man picked up on the steady, distant rhythmic drumming in the air. The clear, cool atmosphere seemed to lend itself to the noise almost amplifying the sound. Eyes heavenward, Mohinder scoured the sky for the approaching vehicle.

"Hold on, my friend," he said, quietly to his companion, "help is on the way." Even if he couldn't be heard by the unfortunate hiker it felt good to hear his own assurances spoken aloud. He would have preferred, however for it to be repeated by someone who was actually in a position to offer that help and within the next few minutes his wish was granted.

As the helicopter came in to view it was all Mohinder could do to stop himself jumping up and down and waving his arms in the air like a madman. Instead he settled for waving his arms across his head until it was obvious they were heading straight for him.

The door slid open as it touched down. "Mohinder Suresh?" A man leaned out of the door, already beckoning his team behind him with the stretcher. "Doctor Suresh?" he repeated.

A smile broke across the relieved man's face. "Yes!" he called back over the dying sound of the blades. The team leapt from the helicopter and immediately rushed into action. "Peter made it, then?" Mohinder asked, moving aside to let the men examine his patient. Jim stepped forward, guiding the professor away from the scene.

"He did, indeed. Came across his brother somewhere on his way back to the cabin. Don't you worry – he's in good hands. Had a bit of nasty fall and a couple other problems but he'll be just fine."

On hearing the news however, Mohinder didn't _feel_ just fine. In fact, his heart had started to beat a little harder in his chest. Nathan was here? He'd actually flown all the way from New York to Colorado simply to bring his brother home? That was something Suresh certainly hadn't been expecting. And Peter was hurt? Thankfully not badly but still, he knew something had been wrong. Whatever else had been wrong with him, apart from the fall, Jim wasn't disclosing but he didn't seem particularly worried about it, either. Perhaps this man was just one of the few people in the world who still believed a person's private affairs were just that – private?

Suresh forced himself to stop his worrying. He could do nothing to alter the situation. They all just had to be very grateful that this whole ugly scenario was resolved and that everyone was more or less all right.

Ten minutes later, his patient was in the air heading to the local hospital, he had gratefully accepted the offer of a warm blanket and was on his way back to the ranger's cabin, accompanied by Jim.

* * *

Stomach cramps woke him. He was so used to the sensation by now, that the disorientation it used to provoke was gone. With lightning reflexes, Nathan was by his side, holding his head as he retched into the basin by the bed. He continued to heave, but this time not alone, comforted by his brother's calming hands – one rubbing gentle circles on his back and the other smoothing his straggly hair away from his face.

"Easy, Pete," he soothed. "I gotcha." Wearily, Peter nodded, too caught up in nausea to do much else. His empty stomach churned again and Peter prepared himself for another round. When he was done, his stomach turned inside out and his throat feeling as though he had swallowed a cupful of pins, Nathan left his side and in that instant, Peter couldn't block the feelings of loneliness, of being abandoned. He couldn't do this alone – not _this_, precisely but _any _of it, _all_ of it. He just couldn't go on with it alone.

But no sooner had the politician left then he was back again, pressing a glass of cool, crisp water to the young man's lips, tilting it up gradually.

"Take a sip," he encouraged. "But slowly. I'm not sure how much you've been keeping down, lately." He watched as his brother sat up straighter to better drink and Nathan was careful to ensure he didn't drink too fast.

"I'm guessing not much," he ventured eying Peter's reaction. His brother didn't look up, just nodded. After a few more long sips, Peter finally pushed the glass away and sagged back into the pillows.

Nathan went again to the sink by the wall, this time bringing over a cold washcloth and handing it to his brother. "You look terrible," he said by way of explanation. Peter's mouth curled up at one end as he gratefully dabbed the cool cloth over his sweat-drenched, pale skin.

"Thanks. And here I thought your bedside manner was improving."

"Well not all of us are destined to be nurses, Peter."

Peter laid the cloth over his eyes and leant his head back against the pillows. "You're right," he mumbled, in a tired voice. "But you'd make a hell of a candy-striper."

Nathan let out a short bark of a laugh – he'd meant it to sound cheerful but he just couldn't force it out that way. The elder man stepped back, looking at his charge appraisingly. "You've lost your colour again. How are you feeling?"

Peter paused a moment before answering. "Fine." He was tired and drained and wondering if he would _ever_ find out what path he was meant to be on, but what was the point in going over old ground? _Fine_ was a very relative word for him but the long and the short of it was it was something he _was_ and probably always _would be_.

Nathan sat himself on the nearby chair. "We'll just have to let the doctors confirm that." Peter removed the, now drier washcloth from his eyes and balled it up, dropping it on to the mattress next to him. It lay there for a moment before slowly unfurling. Peter seemed transfixed on it, staring as the corners unravelled and Nathan could almost see the thoughts in his mind uncurling and straightening in the same manner revealing conclusions at their centre.

"Nathan?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry. Really. I'm sorry." And Nathan could hear the sincerity: the excuses were gone; the near petulant whine had gone. He looked to his brother and gave him a small but genuine smile.

"I know. It's going to be okay." He stood and moved to the window.

"What are you doing?"

Nathan rummaged inside his coat pocket and fished out his phone, holding it up at an odd angle. "I want to call Heidi," he explained. "I called her while you were sleeping but I promised to check in and keep her posted." Peter looked a little guilty.

"Is she okay?" he wondered. "She's knows everything's okay, right?" He still felt badly for worrying her. If any person had enough to worry about, both for themselves and their family, it was Heidi. The last thing she needed was for him to be adding to her troubles.

Nathan briefly toyed with the idea of replaying the guilt card but, after a moment, thought better of it. "She's fine," he assured his brother, watching as his shoulders relaxed a little. "Though she wasn't too impressed," he added.

_Terrific_, Peter thought, irritably: _two of them on my case_!

"Damn it," he heard his brother curse. Peter sat up a little straighter and turned his body round, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to face his brother better.

"What is it?"

Nathan was holding his phone higher, lower and from side to side all the while frowning in annoyance. "I can't get a signal," he explained. "It was working before and now it just seems to be gone."

Peter thought for a moment. "Is there a phone here you could use?" Nathan glanced about them fairly certain he had seen one on the ranger's perfectly organised desk. He had: it was nestled in between a computer and a stack of paper trays.

"There's one over on the desk but I don't really want to use it for personal calls unless I absolutely have to." A thought occurred to him. "You're on a different network to me, right?" Peter nodded.

"Is your phone with you or part of the stuff you left behind with Suresh?"

Peter snagged his pack from the floor by his bed and lifted it up. Nathan narrowed his eyes when he took note of Peter's vertical position, content enough to let it be for the time being, so long as the boy didn't try standing up. "Should be in here," Peter answered as he shifted items around, fingers searching for the slim phone at the bottom of the pack.

"Don't you keep it in the phone slot?" Nathan wondered.

"It always falls out," Peter answered. "And besides, with the speed you were flying us, can you blame me if it did?" Nathan couldn't really so made no reply to that.

"Ah-ha!" the young nurse exclaimed, pulling the cell-phone from the bag. "Thought I had it here." Without waiting for an invitation, Nathan strode over and took it from his hands. He switched it on and waited for the phone to tell him it was ready. It seemed to take forever. Finally, the display picture popped up and the little signal bars gradually crept into view.

"Excellent," Nathan exclaimed. "Seems like a pretty strong signal, too. Shouldn't cut out half way through." Peter grinned at him.

"See?" he remarked, "at least I can do _something_ right." Nathan chuckled and affectionately ruffled the kid's hair causing Peter to try to duck away from him.

"Yeah, Peter – you're…" He stopped, mid-sentence and mid dialling as the beeping of a message came through. He shot Peter a look, which the young man understood all too well, shrugging sheepishly in response.

"Um…I wanted to save the battery," he offered, weakly both brothers knowing full well who the message would be from.

"How considerate," Nathan drawled. "So it had nothing to do with…" Again, the phone beeped a second time and this time, Nathan merely raised his eyebrows before continuing: "with wanting to avoid me or the instructions to get your ass back home?"

A third beep, then a fourth and Peter winced. "Not at all," he insisted, wholly unconvincingly. He was very relieved with the next events then, for two reasons: firstly with the opening of the cabin door, it broke up the awkward conversation and saved him from any more disapproving looks and secondly it was followed by the very welcome arrival of Ranger Jim and Mohinder Suresh, safe and sound.

Peter leapt to his foot but Nathan was there in a shot, gently pushing him back down. It didn't stop the young man's excited exclamation.

"Mohinder! You made it! How's the hiker?" Grinning widely, Mohinder walked to the cot and gave the young nurse a light embrace, clapping him gently on the shoulder. The professor seemed weary and a little cold but overall fit and happy.

"He's going to be all right," he assured his friend, shrugging out of his thick outdoor jacket to reveal his light blue sweater, still helping to keep out the biting cold. "He's on his way to hospital now, thanks to you. You did an excellent job." Peter dismissed the praise with his usual nonchalance.

"It was nothing," he insisted and where most people could be accused of false modesty, the same could not be said of Peter. "I'm just really glad you're both okay."

Nathan had given up his attempt to call home the moment the door had opened. Instead he had remained silent, watching the reunion between the separated companions and moving to stand by Jim who had shaken the snow off his coat and hat and shut the door behind them.

"Any problems?" The ranger asked him, visually assessing the younger member of the family. He seemed no worse than when he had left. Nathan, his eyes still trained on the two travellers, replied.

"None really – some sickness but he slept most of the time. Heartbeat's been stable enough." His voice held a hard, low edge to it.

"Peter," he announced suddenly, cutting through the conversation between the young men. Peter stopped and looked up to his brother. Mohinder, who had seated himself on the mattress next to him, now stopped and stood expectantly, to face the Congressional candidate. Nathan simply ignored him and instead directed his words and eye contact solely towards his brother.

The snub wasn't lost on either of the young men but they chose, wisely, not to comment on it.

"Yes, Nate?"

"Get your things together, including whatever you left behind with Doctor Suresh. Now that everyone's safe, we're going down to the hospital in the car. I'm going to bring it around out front." He didn't wait for a response. When you were Nathan Petrelli, you didn't have to – you asked, it was done. With a respectful nod to Jim Nathan turned and left the cabin, slipping his jacket back on as he did so.

Mohinder let out a low whistle once the door had closed behind Nathan and Jim had moved to the back of the room to his desk, starting the long list of paper work.

"I take it he's not best pleased with me," the Indian professor observed. He reached in to his own backpack and handed Peter the items he had left behind. The tent and camping gear, he had decided, would be better off coming back with him as they wouldn't want any unnecessary baggage with them at the hospital. Peter gave him a sympathetic smile as he re-packed his belongings and eased his coat on.

"Just give him a little space," he suggested. "He's tired and cranky at the moment but he'll get over it."

Mohinder sighed, heavily. "He _should_ be angry." Peter raised his eyebrows in surprise and on seeing this, Mohinder explained. "I could see you were sick and I never should have suggested this in the first place. My god! You almost had a heart attack, Peter and I never even realised." Peter shook his head, stubbornly.

"This isn't your fault, Mohinder. I have my _own_ mind and _I _wanted to come. I knew the risks better than anyone but I decided it was worth it. And it still is," he assured him. "Once I'm back on my feet I still want to explore this. We just might need to think of a different way." The professor sat back and seemed to think about this for a moment.

"I suppose so," he finally admitted. "I'm glad you're going to be all right but I can't leave things this way with your brother. I can see now that he understood your predicament better than I did." He paused and let out a short laugh, cursing his own arrogance. "Of course he did! I owe him an explanation and an apology at the very least." Peter shrugged still looking uncertain.

"Well, if it will make you feel better but I strongly advise against it, at least at for the time being." At that moment, the door opened letting in a chilling wind that whipped through the room. Outside the sky was already grey and darkening with every passing minute. Snow was falling once again in silent showers.

"You ready?" Nathan asked as he strode back in and over to the bed. "The car's right by the door so you won't have far to walk." Peter nodded and Nathan took the pack from his hands and slung it over his own shoulder. He still had not acknowledged the young doctor.

"Okay, let's get you up then." He wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders and tugged gently until the young man was up standing and leaning his weight on to his good foot. Peter turned to give Mohinder an encouraging smile.

"I'll be seeing you," he said. "Take care." Mohinder smiled and nodded.

"And you. I'll be in touch when we're back in New York."

"Okay, let's move out," Nathan said, abruptly shuffling the two of them carefully out of the room. They left the professor where he was, looking out after them.

When Peter was securely and comfortably in the car, Nathan leaned in to the open doorway. "I'm going to get a few directions from Jim and thank him for all his help. You be okay here for a few minutes?" Peter scoffed.

"What exactly do you think could happen when I'm strapped in to the passenger seat of a parked car?" Nathan merely raised his eyebrows in a somewhat dangerous manner.

"Don't even go there, Peter," he warned. "Just sit tight and wait for me." He slammed the door shut and walked back inside the cabin, leaving Peter to shake his head in disbelief and then start to wonder how exactly he _could _screw things up, sitting in a parked car…

On returning to the ranger's cabin, Nathan exchanged a few quiet words with him, gratefully accepting a list of directions for a short cut to the hospital. He shook hands with the man, promising he would be unlikely to ever see the two brothers on his mountain again. When Jim had gone back to his paper work, Nathan finally turned to look at the young man he had been studiously ignoring since his return.

Suresh noticed he was now being acknowledged, took a deep breath and slid off the cot, moving to stand in front of the approaching politician, slightly barring his exit to the door. When Nathan reached him, the politician stopped, tilted his head to one side and regarded him for a second in an almost quizzical manner. Then he seemed to reach a conclusion somewhere in his sharp, calculating mind.

"Mr. Petrelli," Suresh began to explain, looking Nathan straight in the eye. "I'd like to…" He got no further, however. Nathan drew back his arm and swung it in a wide arc, his fist connecting heavily with the professor's jaw and sending him sprawling backwards to the floor. He hit the ground with a thud, holding his jaw and staring up at the elder Petrelli. He knew he should have been expecting it and he made no move to stand immediately.

For his part, Nathan was regarding him in an oddly calm manner. His voice was even and quiet. "Just so we're clear on this," was all he offered by way of explanation.

If Ranger Jim had anything to say on the matter, he seemed content to keep it to himself and remain busy by his desk apparently aware that, until certain lines had been crossed, it was best to let some scenes play out.

Mohinder nodded and carefully rose to his feet. There was nothing to say – at least, nothing that Nathan was interested in hearing and Mohinder seemed to instinctively understand the man's reasoning. It was done; dealt with. You _didn't_ interfere with his brother – period. And although Nathan felt his point had been sufficiently made, he was nonetheless impressed with the doctor's reaction. Wordlessly, he thrust an envelope into the man's hands. Mohinder regarded it curiously, turning it over to pull out a plane ticket.

Nathan's reply was curt but to the point. "Weather's getting worse and they're cancelling flights. You've got a flight back to New York in five hours and I'd suggest you be on it. I'm assuming you'll have very little to do here without my brother."

"Yes," Mohinder agreed, quietly somewhat taken aback at the gesture of help. "Thank you." But Nathan had already turned and left.

* * *

"For _how long_?" Peter's indignant exclamation was laced with a mixture of pain, weariness, stubbornness and petulance. When Peter had been younger, Nathan had called that particular tone, being _grisly_.

His little brother was currently seated on a hospital bed with the tending physician next to them. He was _not_ happy and his face scrunched up into a miserable scowl, dark eyes shadowed under a hooded brow.

"You heard the doctor as well as I did, Peter," Nathan insisted, firmly. The doctor in question seemed most relieved that the elder of these two brothers had opted to handle this particular situation.

Peter wasn't so easily handled, however. "But you said all I would have to do is a stress test to check my heart's okay to fly!" he protested. Nathan bit back a sigh. Peter was a damned nurse and knew the ins and outs of this better than anyone! He was just being stubborn, difficult and sulky. Not that Nathan could really blame him. None of them enjoyed staying in hospitals and Peter had had more than his fair share of them in the past few months. The boy was also feeling ill and exhausted – neither of which put a person in their best mood.

"You _can't_ do the regular test, Peter, as we've already explained because it involves running on a treadmill or doing some other form of vigorous exercise. How do you intend to do that with your foot, hmm?"

"I can hop," Peter muttered, darkly refusing to look at either his brother or the doctor. As Nathan silently prayed for patience, Doctor Nash, a rotund, cheery-looking man in his fifties stepped in to offer more of an explanation.

"We'll start with keeping you in for twenty-four hours observation," he began, ignoring the deepening scowl on the young man's face. "Given the trouble you're having keeping anything down, I'd like to set you up with an IV to give you fluids and nutrients while we monitor your heart-rate."

"That sounds fine," Nathan cut in, daring Peter with a dark look of his own, to contradict him. Nash nodded, glad of the intervention.

"When you get back, I recommend you have your regular doctor check your medication – it could be what's causing these complications. I'll send a nurse in to get you set up and to get you a gown." He gave Nathan a reassuring pat on the shoulder and offered his hand for Peter to shake but the young man merely folded his arms tightly across his chest and turned his head away. Nathan closed his eyes in embarrassment.

"Sorry about that," he muttered to Nash as the doctor walked towards the door to their private room. The older man shook his head, kindly.

"Not to worry," he assured him. "I'm sure the young man will be feeling better soon." With that, he left to continue with his shift.

Nathan closed the door after him before rounding on his brother.

"Give it a rest, Peter! I'm not in the mood for your sulking. And that was _rude _just then!" he chided. Nathan stalked back over the bed and started stuffing Peter's cell phone and outdoor clothing into his bag. Peter grabbed his jacket off the bed and began shrugging in to it, furiously.

"What do you think you're doing?" Nathan demanded in exasperation.

"I _don't_ want to stay here," Peter insisted, voice rising. "I _want_ to go home!"

"_You _were the one who left in the first place!" Nathan snapped. "And for your information staying here isn't exactly top on _my_ list of favourite things to do, either but you _need_ to be here so like it or not, you're _going_ to be! So quit that right now, take your coat off and give it here."

Peter didn't cease his actions however, this time snatching the bag out of his brother's hands and shaking it out on the bed, rummaging through the contents for his wallet, plane ticket and keys.

Nathan had had enough. He grabbed the items out of Peter's hands and flung them to other side of the room not particularly caring where they landed. "Right, you've just pissed me off for the last time, Peter," he muttered ignoring and easily overcoming his brother's struggles and curses. None too gently, Nathan took a hold of the coat and began sharply tugging it off his brother's back.

"Get off me!" Peter yelled, trying to wrench his arms away from his brother's vice-like grip. It made no difference - in no time at all Nathan had succeeded in tearing the jacket off and sending it to join the other items piled unceremoniously on the floor by the window.

"You son of a …" Peter started to shout when all of a sudden, the door to the room opened and a rather frightened looking nurse hovered in the doorway, a green gown in her hands. She looked from Peter to Nathan and the pile of belongings strewn on the floor before directing her explanation at the elder of the two.

"Uh, sorry to disturb you, sir. Doctor Nash asked me to bring in this gown?" She all but threw it down on the bed before beating a hasty retreat promising to come back later once he was settled.

"There's no way I'm wearing that, Nathan!" Peter spat out, as soon as the door was closed. "I told you – I'm going home and you can't _make me_ stay here." An eerie silence hung over the room. There hadn't been much space between them to begin with but what little there was, Nathan now closed with a single step. His eyes narrowed, dangerously.

"Would you like to bet on that?" Uncertainty flashed across the boy's mind. It showed on his face.

"Now," Nathan continued his breath hot against his little brother's face. "You either put this on or I swear to God, _I _will put this _on_ you." For a moment, Peter's eyes widened in shock and he retreated minutely from his brother's towering presence.

Anger, however, won out over common sense. "Screw you!" he snapped, folding his arms across his chest and glowering at his brother, the challenge shining through his expression.

Nathan's own expression didn't waver, didn't so much as flicker, even when the flat of his hand connected sharply with his younger brother's face, whipping his head round to the side. Peter instinctively shot up a hand to his stinging cheek, breathing heavily and staring up with wide-eyed incredulity at his brother as anger, trepidation and embarrassment flooded through him.

Nathan took a step back and spoke in a calm, measured tone. "Now I could ask you again but that would make me very unhappy. So what do you say you settle down, do what I ask and we can work on getting you well enough to leave this place so we can both go home?" He raised an eyebrow, expectantly and simply sat back to wait.

Peter, his hands shaking slightly and eyes brimming with tears – though not from pain – silently took the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Nathan immediately moved to take it, stowing it away in Peter's camping pack.

"I hate you," the young man said, quietly.

Nathan made no comment as he retrieved the fallen items from the floor and packed those too, into the bag.

* * *

Right! Thanks for reading this far. As always I really appreciate your thoughts! Please let me know and my Christmas will have come early! I'm also working on my Christmas Special one – should the last chapter out in the next day or so. As for this story, there's probably only really one more chapter left.

I'm thinking, if there's enough interest, in setting this as more of an 'AU' universe and doing other stories within the same set-up as Fourteen Days – this kind of sets up the playing field. The custody one, for example is a plotline I have planned out but I couldn't do it justice in this story, as I don't really have time here. That's a whole other plot with an entirely different focus. But if people are interested in more from this AU, then I'd love to write it.

Happy Christmas to those who celebrate it!

**Review replies:**

**Allegra**:

Thank you for your lovely review! I am constantly checking your stories, BTW, for updates…:-) And Nathan deserves a couple of good lines, every now and then, don't you think?

**Swordy**:

As always, your reviews are so carefully crafted, they always give me such a boost. Thank you. Yeah, I was trying to get a balance between an understanding of Peter's actions but I also wanted Nathan to appear as reasonable as possible, even though he's had his brother declared mentally unwell, so I'm glad you picked up on that. I know there aren't many chapters of this particular story left but I hope I can make the next one round up as many things as I can.

**Sarah of Earth**:

Lovely to hear from you – as always! Thanks so much for your kind comments – I'm really glad you enjoyed all of it – even the rambling bits, apparently! And I personally like the American accent though I'm glad you like the British one, too. I always thought it made us sound so icy! Lol! And as for Nathan losing custody, as I said in my notes, it's a bit too big an issue to deal with in this story but it may well develop and come up again in the future. This is sort of setting the scene. Hope you enjoyed this chappie! Happy hols!

**Teoyrn**:

Why thank-you! You know your comments are always much appreciated! Yes, our Peter is beginning to realise life's not going to be as free and easy as he had thought. And FAR better it be Nathan than his mother! lol

**AlenaRivendell**:

Thank you! I'm sorry to keep you waiting! I'm glad you liked the last chapters and I hope this one doesn't disappoint.

**MikiNare**:

Aw shucks! Thank you for such a lovely review – it really put a smile on my face. I hope helped to satisfy your curiosity somewhat. And I'm glad you think Peter was adorable – he is just too lovely!

**Chocolate Chihuahua**:

Love the penname, BTW! Thanks for reviewing. Nathan IS sweet when he's being overprotective – as long as he isn't too saccharine! Lol!

**JennMel**:

Thanks for taking the time to review – I hope there were enough brotherly moments in here, for you!

**Ariannette**:

Thanks for your review and sorry about the wait for the update – the real world has been a little more demanding than I anticipated! Don't worry about the slash thing, either. I know a lot people like that and fair play to them, but it's not really my thing, particularly with brothers. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Shadowtheo**:

Thanks for coming back and reviewing again! Your reviews are always very flattering. I'm glad you're still enjoying this story. I'm not very good at mountain rescue scenes so I hope this bit wasn't too disappointing!

**Marinawings**:

Thank you for taking the time to review! I really appreciate your comments. I'm glad you think the relationship between the brothers is on the mark. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Happy Christmas!

**TheDirtySouth**:

Thank you! I love anything with those Petrelli brothers as well. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Happy holidays.

**SparkRocker**:

Peter fight back, eh? I think one day that may well be a possibility but at the moment I'm enjoying a bullying Nathan a bit too much! I promise I'll make Peter bite back a little harder soon! Thanks for reviewing.

**Sami**:

Sorry – couldn't remember all of the numbers after your name! Thanks for taking the time to tell me what you thought. And don't worry – I really don't want poor Peter to leave Nathan just yet – I'm having too much fun with them!

**Gravitation gig**:

Yup- you can't have too much fluff where those boys are concerned, eh? Thanks very much for reviewing. I hope you liked chapter 9, too.

**Shaolin Queen**:

Glad you liked the last update – I hope this one had enough 'sweet' moments not to disappoint! Thank you for reviewing.


	10. Chapter 10

Fourteen Days – Chapter 10

Standard Disclaimer applies – between now and the last chapter, I have not suddenly acquired the Petrelli brothers nor the show, Heroes.

A/N – so, here it is, at long last, the final chapter. I'm sorry it waffles quite a bit but there wasn't an awful lot of action left to happen in the story. But as I mentioned earlier, I have more stories planned in the same AU-verse so I've set up a few things for the future.

Thanks to everyone who has nagged and inspired me to keep writing and especially to those who have me through from chapter one. I hope enjoys this last part and I'd LOVE to hear what you all think!

* * *

After over twenty-four hours of beeping monitors, of being attached by wires and needles to machines and of cheery, yet no-nonsense nurses bustling about him, Peter was ready to leave. Hell, he was ready to get up and jump through the nearest window. Yet, he remained as patiently as he could, laying on clean, starched white hospital sheets answering the frequent rounds of questions he was subjected to during his stay.

The questions were standard and obvious. Peter knew them by heart and the implications of every answer he could give but there was no point trying to wheedle his way out. Neither his brother nor his doctors were intent on releasing him until he had satisfied their requirements. With little else to do, Peter slept and was always surprised with how much his body seemed to crave it.

Though their exchanges had been few and brief, Nathan had been a near-constant presence. His older brother could usually be found sitting in one of the more comfortable chairs the nurses had brought in to his brother's room, either reading a magazine from the shop downstairs or on his phone arranging matters to do with work and home.

Nathan had been impressed with the nurses and the calm, quiet confidence they both exuded and installed in others. A lovely lady in her late thirties, with a rounded, gentle face was responsible for Peter's medication and obs during the day. She was very good with him and sported a wicked sense of humour: kind, ever so patient yet firm in matters of health that she was immovable on. He couldn't get much past her though his charming, schoolboy grin was not entirely without purpose. It at least got him an extra half an hour of lights at the end of the day.

The night nurse, however, Nathan was not so impressed with. Bill was a greying man in his late fifties and broadly built. The politician didn't appreciate his brusque manner in getting things done nor his curt treatment of the other patients around the hospital and their worrying relatives, hovering by their loved ones' bedsides.

Watching this man bully his way around those under his care, Nathan was suddenly struck with the realisation of what a _good_ nurse Peter must be. He could see his brother's gentle caring, insistent nature and amiable personality helping to put at ease not just his patients but their nervous families, as well. Not only, however, would his younger brother's soothing presence be like a balm to those in need, but Peter _knew_ how to get things done.

People often assumed that because of his quietly spoken nature, Peter was weak and pliable but the truth of it was if there was anyone more likely to get their own way, it was his little brother. His speciality was in ensuring that the person who gave him his way, rarely realised they had lost. It was, in a way, the most cunning trick of all.

Though Nathan sometimes lost sight of it and though he wore his team colours in a different pattern, Peter was a Petrelli through and through. It didn't pay to go forgetting that and you'd learn your lesson well if you were foolish enough to.

Their mother had called several times to check on their progress. Though she was concerned for her son's welfare Nathan had persuaded her against coming out to see him. Peter would, he had argued, spend more energy convincing her that he was well then he would on getting his strength back. Besides which, in all likelihood, they would both be heading home by the time she was flying out.

Neither brother had exchanged more than a few words with each other and then only on general subjects. When Peter had slept, however, Nathan remained by his side, watching the rise and fall of his chest and constantly tracking the patterns of his heartbeat on the monitors. Finally, nearly forty-eight hours after being admitted, the doctors agreed that, under careful supervision and with strict orders not to over stimulate himself Peter would be allowed to fly home. Nathan wasted no time in booking the flights while Peter set about packing his travel bag, accidentally disconnecting the monitors he was attached to in the process and setting off several alarms.

Now dressed and ready to go, sitting quietly on the bed while they waited to be told their car was outside, Peter kept silent company with his brother. Nathan stood in the doorway, ostensibly to await the nurse who would tell him his driver was downstairs but also, Peter suspected, to prevent him leaving his room any earlier than necessary. The young man had surprised even himself with how desperately he wanted to get out, to go home. His brother had never quite ruled out an escape attempt, particularly knowing just how devious his young sibling could be.

With the loud, insistent ticking of the clock on the wall, the only sounds of life in the room, the brothers were keenly aware of each other's presence and the silence within. Every subtle movement seemed amplified in the stillness: the squeak of the mattress springs when Peter shifted his weight, the creak of the wooden door as Nathan leant against it. When the tingling in the air had become palpable Peter looked up and broke the tension.

"I was angry."

Feigning ignorance, Nathan merely turned sideways towards him and raised a querulous eyebrow. "What's that?"

Peter took a deep breath and forced himself to meet his brother's eyes. "I was angry," he repeated. "And I was more tired and in a _lot_ more pain than I was willing to admit – to anyone. And I'm sorry I went off the way I did."

Nathan nodded his head, secretly impressed with his brother's reserved admission. But Peter wasn't finished.

"I don't know what came over me. I'm not proud of it and I can't promise it won't happen again. But I'm not that little kid you used to carry on your shoulders, Nathan." He fixed his older brother with an unwavering gaze. "This is _my_ life, Nathan, my body, my heart."

Nathan merely stood and contemplated, without saying a word.

"I know you think you know what you're doing and I know you think you know what's best for me. But I've been doing this on my own for a long time now. And I know what everyone else believes, but I think I've been doing a pretty good job."

He saw Nathan open his mouth to interrupt so he cut in quickly. "Yeah, I know – you disagree more strongly than anyone else. But it's not easy, Nathan. You're asking me to give up, willingly, everything I've earned so far in life. I'm not the kid you used to swing round like Superman and I'm not the kid that you could clip round the ear when I didn't do what you told me to."

Nathan's eye contact left his for a moment and Peter thought, or at least _hoped_, he could tell what his brother was thinking.

"You can't just bully me around any more, Nathan. It doesn't work that way. I know I was out of order, but so were you." The young man had finished. He sat back and waited for his response, proud of himself that he hadn't given in to shouting, taunting his brother into an argument. He'd said his piece, now it was Nathan's turn to say his.

And Nathan didn't rush in delivering it. After a few moments he took a calm, measured breath. Peter had given him his speech in a reasonable, collected tone and he deserved the same courtesy in return. "Thank you, Pete. For what it's worth, I've seen you cranky before, I'm not phased by it and I'm sure I'll see it again." Peter chuckled to himself, quietly.

"And," Nathan continued, "I will do whatever I can to ensure that your life now is as close to what you're used to as I can make it. I don't want to stop you living – I just want to stop you from dying. Sometimes, that's going to mean I'm going to have to do things, make decisions that you don't agree with. I don't mean to patronise you but that's just the way it is." His tone was firm – it didn't broach an argument.

For a moment, Peter's face clouded in anger even though, deep within, he had been expecting it. With a concerted effort he reigned in his anger and relaxed his expression from its darkened contort into something more tolerant. He almost laughed to himself: he was going to be staying with Nathan for the foreseeable future, or at the very least, the next _year_ – they would have plenty of time to rehash this argument again and again.

Nothing was realistically going to get resolved, sitting in a hospital room in Colorado. Neither one of them would be able to change the other overnight. They had each said their part and that would have to be enough.

Having reached this conclusion, a weight seemed to immediately lift from his heart.

* * *

Peter had slept for most of the flight. He had slept for most of the journey to the airport as well, head alternately leaned up against his brother's shoulder and the window of the car. Nathan had woken him only when they had to traverse the terminal. Peter had even slept stretched out across three chairs in the flight lounge, his head resting comfortably on Nathan's lap with his brother's jacket draped over his shoulders.

Nathan had been glad for the peace and quiet, particularly during the flight itself. His brother was with him: whole and more or less sound. He could use the sleep at any rate. As for himself, Nathan vowed only to sleep again when Peter was safely at home in his bed once more. The politician was keenly aware of how many mistakes he had made over the past few days and how many more were likely to lay ahead.

But he also knew that Peter would now give him the time he needed to figure things out – to become the perfect big brother and the best guardian the young man could have. Because that's what he deserved, this loving, gentle soul: he deserved the very best. Nathan had previously assumed there would be no other person on Earth - his mother included – who would be better suited to the job of protecting Peter than himself. The events of the past few days had installed a little perspective in his life. Nathan only hoped that in time, that person, that guardian and protector – the best of the best - would prove to be him.

* * *

Heidi had been sorting through bills and other paperwork when she heard the car pull up outside. It never failed to amaze her how many volumes of papers could accumulate in just one week in her husband's campaign. She never let it overwhelm her, though. Her husband was not the immovable rock he liked to present to the world and he needed her behind him. He needed her strength, her steadfast support. But these last few days had been draining, even for her. She could never admit it – not to her husband and certainly not to her mother-in-law who, she suspected, was forever looking for cracks in her seemingly flawless shell.

So when she heard the sound of the engine dying outside the front windows where she sat, leafing through files and papers, her heart seemed instantly lighter and her shoulders immediately lost the tension that had been stretched across her back.

Nathan had been a treasure recently, keeping her abreast of the developments, though she suspected it benefited him as much as it eased her mind. As the front doors opened, she turned in her seat to better view the new arrivals. It was with a great sense of restraint that she did not rush to greet them. The last thing they would want after a tiring journey was to be set upon the moment of their arrival. Instead, she let herself be the warm, welcoming figure on their return, her smile lighting up the room.

Peter had been insistent that he walked, more or less on his own, into the house - perhaps with a bit of a limp. It had taken a good few minutes for Nathan to wake him properly but Peter didn't want to appear drowsy and tired. He knew he had put his family through enough in the last couple of days, no matter how he felt he could justify his actions and now the young man wanted to give them back a little peace of mind.

Nathan had both bags slung over his shoulder as they walked inside. He immediately sought out his wife.

"Look who's back," she remarked, kindly. From where he stood next to Nathan (who hadn't been content to let him move about entirely on his own) Peter glanced down at his feet for a moment before smiling shyly at her. From underneath his bangs, his expression was at once tired, relieved and contrite. Heidi knew the look all too well and now took it as her invitation to invade his personal space. She moved aside from the couch and held out one hand to it, indicating he should sit himself down.

Without needing to be told, Nathan carefully steered them both to the couch by the window then allowed Peter to seat himself. No sooner was he sitting down then Heidi wrapped her arms about his shoulders and drew him to her. He returned the hug, leaning his head against her neck.

"Hey," she murmured into his hair. "Welcome back. So I hear you've had quite the adventure."

"I'm sorry I worried you," he mumbled, "It's just that I…"

"Shh," she whispered, interrupting gently. "That doesn't matter now. I'm just glad you're home and safe."

Nathan settled himself on the other side of his brother and leaned back against the couch, resting his head on the cushions. His eyes drifted shut for only a moment but his sharp wife picked up on it. She could see her husband was as exhausted as her brother-in-law, the traces of worry and sleepless nights etched across his features. After smoothing the hair out of the younger man's eyes, she released her hold on him, keeping a warm hand around the back of his neck.

Easing out the kinks in his back, Peter sat back against the cushions, leaning his weight ever so slightly against Heidi. Her presence was comforting. Her face lit up with fondness for the young man who had always been like a younger brother to her from the moment Nathan had eagerly introduced the two of them, back when Peter was still in High School. She could instantly see they were going to get along – Peter was inquisitive, caring and sported a rather devilish sense of humour that made her laugh and got under her future husband's skin like nothing else could. But with Nathan's role in Peter's life now changed, Heidi couldn't help but wonder if hers was due to change as well.

One thing was for sure, though: Peter still needed her in his corner. She would be hard pressed to think of two other brothers in this world who cared about each other more than her husband and brother-in-law did but that didn't mean the two of them wouldn't be routinely at each other's throats.

"So," she began, "I'll get chef to fix us a bite to eat and something to drink and then I want to hear all about your week." She squeezed the back of his neck, affectionately and he grinned back at her.

"Nathan?" she asked, glancing across Peter to where her husband was still resting against the back of the couch. He raised an eyebrow to indicate he was listening. "Why don't you take the bags upstairs?" she suggested, quietly. "You look like you could do with an hour to yourself."

For a moment, a look of guilt crossed his face as though needing time for himself was simply not something he allowed – a luxury that a person could be hardened against. But as he looked, worriedly, towards Peter and opened his mouth to object, Heidi cut in.

"Peter and I will be just fine here," she insisted, her eyes seeking his out and imploring him to understand, to let her _help_ him. She was his wife, damn it and there were still some things she could do to make his life easier besides pick out publicity shots. Finally, he seemed to accept the logic behind the words and nodded his head.

Hefting the bags onto his shoulder, he kissed his wife on the cheek and then faced his brother. Peter made to stand with him but Nathan firmly pressed on his shoulder until the young man sank back onto the couch.

"I got it, Peter," he said. "You sit back and fill Heidi in on mountain lions and hikers and God knows what else you've been up to in the last few days." He jabbed a warning finger at him. "But don't over-do it," he emphasised.

A guileless grin came over the young man's face. "Sitting on a couch?"

"You know what I mean…smart-ass," his brother muttered but the affection was clear in his voice.

"I'll see you in an hour, Nathan," Heidi said, firmly, humour lacing her words. He shot her a charming, grateful grin before shooting Peter one last cautionary look and heading upstairs for a well-earned rest. When her husband was safely upstairs, she turned back to Peter.

"So, tell me all about these mountain lions."

With slight chuckle, Peter settled himself down, to do just that.

Within thirty minutes, he too was laid out on the couch, sound asleep.

* * *

Three days had passed since the brothers had returned and events had finally seemed to settle down into something resembling normal, with only some minor differences.

Nathan had returned to work and often worked late hours to try and compensate for all the time he had recently missed. But when he came home, he would try to find the time to sit and talk with his family and both Peter and Heidi enjoyed spending time as a family that wasn't meant for a cover story or connected with the campaign.

Peter's meals - on his regular doctor's insistence - were more carefully monitored and regulated and he was to frequently check the progress of his weight gain. True to his word, he didn't go anywhere without his pills – most of the time. Nathan was checking, all the same.

It was on the third day, when things seemed to be settling down then, that both Peter and Nathan decided it was safe enough to try and stir things up a little.

Over dinner that evening, Peter brought up the subject of Mohinder.

"I want to call him," he announced suddenly, whilst passing Heidi the mashed potatoes. Nathan paused in the process of pouring the wine and looked curiously at his brother.

"Call who?"

"Mohinder Suresh," Peter explained. Nathan closed his eyes for a moment. "I told him I'd be in touch when we were back in New York," he continued.

"Actually, I think _he_ said that," Nathan pointed out before he could stop himself.

"Either way," Peter pressed on, "_I'm_ back and _he's_ back ergo, I need to call him."

From beside them, Heidi cleared her throat softly. "Uh, so Mohinder is the gentleman who…" she trailed off, suggestively, waving her hand in Peter's general direction.

"Started this whole mess?" Nathan filled in with a certain air of triumph. "Yes." Immediately, Peter seemed to bristle.

"Nathan," Heidi intoned in a low, warning voice. For a moment, the politician looked as though he wanted to argue the matter further but one look at his wife and her steely resolve and he reigned himself back in to check.

"Well _kind of_," he amended, awkwardly. "You need more meat than that," he suddenly snapped looking pointedly at Peter's plate and shifting his embarrassment into annoyance. Peter rolled his eyes at the obvious cover-up but complied with the instruction and piled another slice onto his plate.

Aware that what he could say was limited in front of Heidi, Peter chose his words carefully. "I need to talk to him. He's helping me figure things out." Nathan met his eyes with a steely expression.

"I think I'm done having him in this house for the time being."

"Nathan, you can't…"

"I didn't say forever!" he pointed out, sharply. "Just…just not right now. That's not too much to ask." It wasn't that Nathan was still angry with the man – well, it sort of _was_, actually – but it was more to do with the fact that Nathan couldn't face starting this whole thing up again quite so soon. He needed a little bit more time – time with just him and Peter figuring things out for _themselves_ first, before they brought in the rest of Peter's crazy world.

"Fine, he doesn't have to come here," Peter pressed on, clearly uninterested in his meal. "But I can call him – talk to him."

"_I'll _talk to him," Nathan cut in. "I'll go round and talk to him, tomorrow. I won't do anything rash," he assured him, "just explain that we need a little more space. And eat your meal." Peter's eyes were untrusting as he regarded his brother, closely. Would Nathan be as civil as he was proclaiming? Peter had a suspicion his brother and Mohinder had not parted on the best of terms that day in the cabin though he could get nothing out of Nathan.

Peter shovelled a little food onto his fork, pausing before bringing it to his lips. "I'll go with you," he offered evenly, his voice hard and low.

Nathan stilled the wine glass at his lips for a second before taking a measured sip and replacing it on the table. In doing so, he said, calmly, "You're busy tomorrow – you start at the clinic. _Eat_ your food."

Peter put down the fork. "You never told me that."

"I'm telling you now," his replied, smoothly, "and I _won't_ tell you again about that food on your plate!" With a frustrated sigh, Peter picked up his fork and began to eat though the food tasted bland to him and was hard to swallow. After taking a few appeasing mouthfuls, Peter addressed his brother again.

"Wait till after work and I'll come down with you after the clinic. I presume it can't last _all_ day."

Nathan took a deep, slow breath and blew it out between his teeth. "After the clinic," he said, his voice like iron, "you come straight home. We've covered this: you don't leave this house unless I say so."

Anger immediately coursed through him and Peter's temper flared. "You can't keep me in here, forever!" he snapped.

Nathan pushed his chair back and leaned back. "Forever?" he repeated, voice just starting to rise, "It's been _three days_, Peter but if you keep pushing me…"

"Boys!"

They both stopped still deeply displeased and turned to look at Heidi who had put down her knife and fork and folded her arms across her chest, having spent the last few minutes following their exchanges like a tennis match.

"Enough," she commanded, fixing each of them with a look that dared them to continue. "Nathan," she said, more gently. "Remember what we talked about – about your temper?" Reluctantly, Nathan sighed and nodded. He pulled his chair back into place and Heidi was relieved to see the tension leave his face and body once more. Heidi leaned over and placed her slender hand on Peter's squeezing it gently.

"Hey," she said, catching his eye and giving him an encouraging smile. "Please try to be patient and let Nathan handle this. If he says he'll act reasonably then I'm sure he will. It's not forever." He didn't feel a whole lot better but the anger was gone. He smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner and squeezed her hand gently, in return.

* * *

The Trinity Clinic was an outwardly ordinary-looking building, set back from a quiet road and encased with a low-rising pale, stone wall. The front-facing aspect, visible from the road looked to be a mixture of modern glass and metal fronting in an L-shaped block yet somehow achieved an air stately antiquity and a feeling of being rooted in tradition. Whatever Peter had been expecting, this was not it. It did not seem imposing nor…_clinical_. Large, black iron gates were the only feature that mildly concerned him.

Nathan had arranged for a driver every morning, despite Peter's protests that he could either drive himself or take the subway. It wasn't his _ability_ to get himself there that Nathan was worried about but rather his inclination to do so.

On this particular occasion, Nathan had accompanied him as they waited in the reception area to be shown around. Presently, the door to the office opened and a tall, thin, wiry man with slightly unkempt grey hair and a contrastingly well-pressed suit strode out, his hand outstretched towards Peter. Rising to meet him, Peter shook the proffered hand, politely. If he had to be there, there was no sense taking it out on the staff - at least for the time being.

"Peter, so glad to finally get to meet you. We had you down for coming in last week." Nathan cleared his throat.

"We had a little family drama but it's all taken care of now. I spoke to your secretary about it." he explained.

"That's good to know," the man smiled, shaking Nathan's hand in turn. "I'm Doctor Philips and this, Peter," he remarked, handing a sheet of paper to the young man, "is for you." Peter unfolded the paper and gave it a quick glance.

"It's your timetable," Philips filled in, helpfully. Peter's expression was at once wary. He shot Nathan a suspicious look.

"Why do I need a timetable?" he asked the doctor.

Nathan forced a little laugh and cut in. "To know _where_ you're going and _when_, Peter – _why else_?" There had been a definite challenge at the end.

Naturally, Peter took him up on it. "But I thought I was just going to my therapy session," he pointed out alternating his gaze between the two men. "Seems to me I could remember something that simple by myself."

Nathan's fixed smile barely hid his muttered response: "You would think so, wouldn't you?"

If Doctor Philips had heard Nathan's under-his-breath remark, he gave no indication of it. Instead, he smiled kindly at Peter. "Let's walk this way," he suggested, holding one hand out in front of him along the corridor, "and I can explain it to you." Obligingly, shooting his brother a dirty look, Peter followed, Nathan following in his wake.

As they walked past rows of doors off to the sides then through sets of swinging double doors, Peter realised that there were several wings leading off the main building through connecting corridors. He had, over the past few days, perfected a kind of hobbling gait and only occasionally needed to rest a supporting hand on someone's arm.

Around them some people, presumably patients, were milling about while others moved off to different rooms. They all seemed young – his age, maybe a few a little younger, a few a little older.

Peter suddenly found he had to pull himself away from his thoughts though, because Doctor Philips had obviously said something that he was supposed to respond to. When he looked back to his brother and guide, they were waiting for him, expectantly.

"Um? I'm sorry," he admitted. "Can you repeat that?"

Philips nodded, understandingly. "Which part?" he asked, kindly.

Peter hesitated. "All of it?" Nathan turned and muttered something just out of earshot.

"It's alright, Mr. Petrelli," Philips assured the older man. "I'm sure this is a lot to take in at first." He turned to face the younger of the brothers. "I was just explaining, Peter, how here at the Trinity Clinic we have much more than therapy sessions. You're here Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays and on each day there'll be a mixture of private therapy and different group sessions." He indicated for them to keep walking as he explained further, pausing outside different doors where activities could be viewed through windows.

"As you can see, each room is designed for a different function. This is the communal lounge for when you're between sessions." The room in question was large and airy. A large TV dominated one wall and there were various vending machines in the corner. A range of couches and chairs lined the floor space. No one was in it. As if following his train of thought, Philips cut in.

"All early morning slots are filled. We've found it tends to be when people are at their most productive and receptive." Nathan gave a short laugh:

"You've not met Peter." Peter gave him a rather sour look.

"So how do you group us?" Peter wondered as they continued their tour of the building. "By shoe size, age or social inadequacies?"

"Peter," Nathan started, in a warning tone. Again, his concerns were brushed off by the doctor.

"It's a fair question, Peter. I'll explain as we walk. This way."

The three of them carried up a little way along the corridor before rounding a corner and heading up a small staircase. On this level there seemed to be several very large rooms with tables and chairs set out in small groups. Around each table sat groups of young people with doctors and aides wandering the room. Peter almost recoiled in horror, stumbling backwards until he bumped in to Nathan's broad chest.

"What are they doing?" he stammered. Nathan almost felt a twinge of pity as he looked at his brother's dumbstruck face. Oblivious to his patient's discomfort, Philips enthusiastically explained.

"There are different activities on each table. Many people enjoy practical work with their hands. There's painting, modelling, even woodwork and pottery - are you creative?"

"Is this arts and crafts?" the young man demanded, shooting Nathan a desperate, silent plea. They _couldn't _make him do arts and crafts! Images of sitting at a table in a dressing gown, sticking on sequins to Mother's Day cards and threading beads came to mind. "Nathan!" he implored, almost clutching at his brother's shirt. "I swear," he whispered, "I'll do anything you say!" Suddenly, he was five years old again at kindergarten and begging his brother not to leave him on his first day.

For his part, Nathan was fighting with every ounce of his being to keep the smile off his face. He only partially succeeded. Let the kid sweat for a while, he decided: it wouldn't hurt – _much_.

* * *

It had just gone two when Nathan left a message with his secretary to say he was popping out for half an hour or so. The pile of papers on his desk was steadily and encouragingly declining. He had his cell phone on, he stressed, in case …_anyone_ should try to reach him. So far, the call he had been dreading from the clinic demanding that he come and take his delinquent little brother home, had not emerged. The chances were looking good that both doctor and patient might survive the day.

When he knocked firmly on the door of the small apartment he started to run through what he was going to say. He was taking a chance that the professor would be in. Thankfully, he was. The door opened to reveal the young doctor in his usual jeans and shirt, looking far more rested and a darned site warmer than he had the last time Nathan had seen him. The discolouration of the bruise on his cheek had almost faded to nothing more than a yellowy hue. He blinked in surprise when he saw the politician and then merely stepped aside indicating his guest should come in.

Nathan stepped in and took a moment to review his surroundings. The apartment was busy, cluttered even but there seemed to be a logical order to everything. A large map dominated the wall behind Mohinder. Pins, pictures and strings were attached to it, linking images and places together like a giant spider web. Nathan instinctively knew that Peter, maybe even he would be entangled in that web somewhere and it didn't sit well with him. In fact, it made him very nervous and he had to keep reminding himself that Suresh was _not_ the spider.

Suddenly, Nathan realised that no one had spoken and it was in fact quite rude to come in to someone's home without speaking to them. "So," he began. "you got back ok."

"Yes, thank you. You were right about the airports – it was getting chaotic." Something occurred to Nathan.

"I'll arrange to have any camping gear he left with you, brought back to the house."

Mohinder liked how he referred to it as a house, rather than a mansion. Made it seem more homely. "That's fine. How is he? Is Peter alright?"

He moved some files off a chair, indicating the man should sit down. Nathan did so as Mohinder took a seat opposite.

"He's fine. He had to stay a couple of days in the hospital until they could sort his heart out but he's doing much better now." Mohinder was nodding his head, gratefully.

"That's good," he was saying. "I'm so relieved." And, Nathan considered, he did genuinely sound it. The politician cleared his throat leaning forwards slightly, hands resting on his knees.

"Peter's started his sessions at the clinic today." He paused and Mohinder waited patiently, aware there was a further point to follow.

"It's going to be taking up a _lot_ of his time," Nathan explained. "I doubt he'll have time for anything else." Mohinder took a careful, steady breath.

"Ever?" he questioned, evenly.

Abruptly, Nathan stood. "I'm sorry – I know I'm a politician but I can't talk round the issue like this. For right now, I don't want you talking to Peter. It's not personal – _really_. I just need some time with my brother to sort things out within our own family – to help him _my_ way. If you need to get in touch with him, then call me first and we'll work something out." He handed the professor a card, which Mohinder rose to accept. "It has my cell number," he explained.

The young man pocketed the card. "I'll respect your wishes, Mr. Petrelli though I urge you to keep in mind the changes Peter is going through. _Please_, if you notice anything out of the ordinary call me straight away. It could be more important than you realise." The urgency in his voice and in his eyes was apparent and when Nathan agreed, he meant it. "You have my word."

* * *

The men said their goodbyes, this time far more civil than the time before and when Nathan emerged onto the sidewalk he allowed himself to feel a sense of closure – of relief that there was at least one part of his hectic life that was dealt with.

As he waited to flag down a cab to take him back to the office, Nathan's thoughts turned to that hectic life of his and how the addition of his little brother was bound to mess things around even more. But, he decided, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Whatever Peter needed, he would provide, whether it be a comforting shoulder, a guiding hand or a clip round the ear.

And, he thought with a smile, as the cab pulled up alongside him, he would even step in if they made him take arts and crafts.

* * *

THE END – wow, it feels good to be able to write that!

Thank you all SO much for sticking with me to this point and please let me know what you think.

Also, any suggestions you may have for things you'd like to see happen in future stories then please let me know. I can't make any promises but if I can make it work, then I will do. I should probably say that I don't really intend to bring Claire in and the stories will kind of take a slice out of time from the cannon time-line. The events of the series won't necessarily NOT happen, it's just they may happen a bit LATER than in the series.

Review Replies:

**AlenaRivendell **– thanks for reviewing this fic – I've really enjoyed reading them. I'm glad you thought both brothers had a reasonable viewpoint – I was trying to make it balanced!

**TheDirtySouth **– Wow – that's a lovely review, thanks. Hopefully you should feel much more warm and toasty with this chapter. I'll try to think of some good follow-ups for you!

**Marinawings **– Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter – though I'm not sure poor Mohinder thought getting decked was 'sweet' but I know what you mean - lol

**Sarahofearth **– Rest assured, if Peter and Nathan were under my bed, I wouldn't be squandering my time with them, asking them about the story! But let's not go in to that here… lol. Thank you SO much for reviewing throughout the story. Your reviews have always put a huge, sappy grin on my face and I'd love to hear any ideas/thoughts you have.

**ShaolinQueen **– Thanks for the compliments and for taking the time to review. I hope the Heidi/Peter interaction was up to spec!

**Celinha** – I'm really glad you're enjoying the story. Thank you for the review.

**Five in One** – Yup – Bratty Peter never goes far: he's just too fun to play with, sometimes.

**Shadowtheo** – Thanks! I hope the ending was happy enough for ya! I'll try to think of something good for next time.

**Swordy** – I've really enjoyed reading your reviews over the story – you put a lot of thought into them and I really appreciate that. Yeah – I see Nathan as the quietly dangerous type, as well – glad you agree. Thank you for your compliments. I'll start planning out the custody one for the future.

**Teoryn **– Aw – my little review-trooper from beginning to end – lol! Thanks for the review. Yes, I'm afraid it's one step forward and two steps back as far as Peter's understanding seems to go. I'll knock him upside the head in the next story for you, how's that?

**Allegra** – why thank you! I'm afraid I didn't give poor Peter much of a bedside scene this time around – perhaps in a future story and if I have the patience to write. For now, I shall just enjoy reading yours in your SN story!


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